


Malpractice

by poppypickford



Series: Subspace [2]
Category: Suits (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - BDSM, Angst, BDSM, Bondage, Discipline, Dom/sub, Established Relationship, Exhibitionism, Fisting, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Other, Public Sex, Rimming, Rough Sex, Safewords, Sex Club, Slash, Spanking, Subspace, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-12
Updated: 2015-02-05
Packaged: 2017-12-23 05:47:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 23
Words: 105,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/922705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/poppypickford/pseuds/poppypickford
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mike thought learning to submit would be the hardest part of being someone’s Sub.  But it turns out the real challenge comes when you realize your Dom is a fallible mortal just like everyone else, and submitting to a mortal sometimes comes with complications.</p><p>A story of the ups and downs of Harvey and Mike’s relationship one year after “Subspace”.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> **This is the second part of what will be a three part series in the _Subspace_ verse. If you have not read _Subspace_ , I would strongly suggest doing so as this will make little to no sense as a stand alone. I did not make any attempt to "fill in the blanks" for virgin readers. However, having said that, if you would like to try anyway - more power to you!**
> 
> In other news, I now have a phenomenal betas - herasmom. She has been hugely supportive and given me great advice. I should think that _Malpractice_ will read a lot smoother because of her. I have also painstakingly edited the entirety of _Subspace_ with her heroic help, so should you be the kind of reader (like me) who keeps PDF copies of fics on their hard drive. PLEASE, re-download _Subspace_.
> 
> _**PLEASE TAKE NOTE OF TAGS!** They act as a warning list. This story has significantly more pornographic material and significantly more triggers than my previous. While these warnings are subject to change, if a chapter contains unexpected content, I will alert you in the chapter notes._
> 
> Finally, please refer to the end notes of this chapter for a (slightly spoilery, but no less important) disclaimer, and some information on safe-play practices. Now, with no further ado, I hope you enjoy and look forward to your feedback! You can safely expect a new chapter update every seven to ten days.

Mike gently unlocks his collar and sets it down on the bathroom vanity. Taking it off, even for necessary purposes, still makes him uneasy. It had taken a few days of playful encouragement from Harvey to convince him that he's no less collared whether the leather is touching his skin or not. Mike knows this, but he really _really_ needed to hear Harvey confirm it. Since then his Dom has been delicately cautious in allowing Mike the choice of when or when _not_ to unlatch.

Mike looks in the mirror at a pale strip around his neck. He rubs at it with his hand and finds the area balmy and slightly uneven in texture. Around the back he fingers a patch of chafed skin that has been stinging all week. He fumbles around in the foreign drawers to the right of the sink until he finds a stack of washcloths. He wets one with soap and water and begins wiping at the area, careful to avoid more bleeding.

"Hurry up, the sun is practically up,” a voice calls from the other side of the bathroom door. “We'll be late for work if we don't get started now."

Mike hums in response as he finishes and wrings out the little spot of blood from the white square of flannel.

“Mike!”

Mike opens the door to glare at Ethan who is standing in his dim little hall, hair in a low ponytail. His eyes narrow and his lips part in surprise.

"Shit, you're bleeding.”

"Am I?" Mike says nonchalantly as he turns and tosses the cloth into the hamper by the shower.

Ethan walks behind him and gently touches the back of his neck. Mike sidesteps his friend, irritated by the touch of anyone but Harvey.

"How often do you take that thing off?"

He shrugs. "Basically never."

"This is only going to get worse." 

Ethan too is sporting a collar, his however, doesn’t have to be removed in public. Mike, thank fuck, can get away with wearing one under his shirt and tie at the office without anyone but Harvey noticing. His low-slung running shirt, however, isn’t so forgiving.

“This happens to you?” Mike asks.

Ethan’s eyes twinkle in a way that used to make Mike want to punch him in the face, and still does, to a degree. He has a cocky know-it-all way about him as if Mike is the precious innocent rookie all over again. But this time in the art of subbing, not law, with Ethan as his teacher, not Harvey. Mike shouldn’t want to be his friend. In fact he spends an unreasonable amount of time bitching to Harvey about all the things he can’t stand about his ex – okay Ethan is emphatically _NOT_ Harvey’s ex, which he’s repetitively reminded, but he’d seemed like competition at one time and that’s enough to irk Mike. 

The reality is that despite his complaining, when Mike is actually with Ethan the friendship is addictive. He’s the only other Sub who knows what Mike is and the camaraderie, Mike has found, is desperately needed. 

Ethan reaches into the vanity behind the magnetic mirror and pulls out a bottle of antiseptic cream. “No, it doesn’t happen often to me, and when it does it’s because a certain someone tied me up too tight.” He beams like it’s worth every chafe. “This miracle bottle is our best friend.” He pushes it at Mike’s chest. “Keep it.”

Mike mumbles a thank you and sets it down next to his collar.

Ethan watches him in the mirror with one hand on his hip while Mike pulls on his slightly oversized shirt – to “hide the Sub” - as Ethan would say.

“You should show him your neck.”

Mike shrugs.

“I’d get in trouble, and I’d bet money Harvey would be mad too if-”

“Don’t tell me what my Dom will or won’t think, okay?” Mike barks. 

After a moment of tense silence he exhales and looks over at Ethan sheepishly. His friend is remarkably forgiving of his short fuse when it comes to Harvey, especially now that Mike has the decency to seem sorry about it.

“Okay, I get it. No unasked for advice. Now, that’s enough playing doctor,” Ethan jokes, “I already did that this week. Let’s run.”

 

 

Mike shuts the front door lightly and hangs his keys on a little hook above the entry table. The sun is just beginning to brighten and on any other Friday Mike would be jumpy with the joyful anticipation of the weekend. He’s the morning person, Harvey – not so much. However today Mike wants to get back in bed, snuggle into the warm arms of his still sleeping Dom and get another hour before he’s forced to face the new day. Besides, work sucks so much right now that when Harvey’s had his coffee, that’s all he’ll be talking about. Best to savor the quiet before the storm.

Harvey mumbles sleepily when Mike presses into him under the covers and nudges his shoulder with the top of his head. He wraps an arm around Mike and pulls in.

“You smell,” he mumbles.

Mike didn’t think about showering. “Okay.” He moves to roll out again. “I’ll go –“

“No. Stay.”

Mike smiles and kisses Harvey’s sleep slack lips. “Okay.”

 

 

That night, after too long a day at the office preparing the final bit of evidence for the Leavitt case, Mike stares encouragingly at the tall cabinet of toys in the bedroom, hoping Harvey gets the message. To this day, Mike hasn't seen inside. The key, although left in the lock, is firmly off limits. Mike suspects that leaving it out in plain and tempting sight is meant to be some sort of test. So far, Mike hasn't felt the need to snoop. Harvey would know, he _always_ does. Having not seen inside the cabinet is meant to do something to Mike's sense of anticipation and, of course, his trust. Over the months Mike has pretty much memorized, just from sound, where everything is kept. On occasion he hears something shifted, moved, bumped, or jingled, that he’s never seen. And _that_ , is what keeps his attention.

Mike is laying ass up and naked on the bed while Harvey flicks through a file. His hearing is scheduled for Monday and Harvey is, to be frank, in a blind panic. 

Harvey looks over the edge of the file at Mike, catches his eye, and follows its path with a growing grin to the tall double door wardrobe. 

"You need to play, baby?"

Mike rolls to his side, displaying his front complete with erect cock, and says, "If it pleases you, sir."

Harvey chuckles, shakes his head in amusement, and goes back to his work. “So polite. I’m almost tempted.”

"Tomorrow's Saturday. No work,” Mike complains.

"Theoretically. You know weekends are fictional before hearings."

"Who’s going to notice if we straggle in at ten? Or even noon." He drapes himself over the bed as Ethan had taught him and runs a hand down his chest and toward his cock. Harvey looks up at him darkly, shakes his head no, and goes back to reading.

Mike lays back letting his fingertips dance dangerously close to his erection. He’s sure Harvey sees him in his peripheral vision, so when he barks a reprimanding “Hands off, Mike!”, he’s not surprised. It’s not exactly a rule so much as common sense Harvey knows Mike understands. If Harvey tells him _not tonight_ , that doesn’t mean Mike can take things into his own hands. Mike flops to his side in indignant frustration. Seriously. If Harvey would just take a break, get his mind off this case and indulge a little, it would do them both a world of good. 

If Mike were really out of sorts, he could take advantage of his contract term allowing him to start a scene, with or without Harvey's strict approval. Harvey wouldn't deny him then. But, it's not worth it. When Mike gets pushy Harvey gets irritable and distracted, almost methodical. And what Mike was hoping for was a display of the intense and attentive Dom he’s fallen so head-over-heels for.

He rolls onto the floor and crawls hands and knees to Harvey’s side where he’s greeted with a perfunctory stroke through the hair, still matted with the day’s flaking product. 

“Only if you can keep quiet,” Harvey instructs. 

“Yes, sir,” Mike whispers. And he means it. But after sitting there for at least twenty minutes staring at the big bed that currently does not contain him getting fucked, Mike decides that Harvey didn’t say anything about staying still. So, with what is really very well meaning intention, he starts nuzzling his Dom’s thigh and running his hand teasingly up his exposed calf.

Before he realizes Harvey even noticed the attention, the papers in his lap flutter to the floor and a hand is gripped too tightly around the back of Mike’s neck.

“If I had time to punish you Mike, god help me I’d put you over my knee.”

“What - what’d I do?”

“When I say no, it means no.” He’s practically snarling when he releases Mike with a push that sends him toppling over onto his hip. “I shouldn’t have to waste so much time taming a pushy Sub.”

Mike’s breath catches in his throat just as Harvey realizes himself and throws his face into his hand, exhaling. “Shit. Mike, I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

Mike pushes himself off the ground and backs up, but Harvey catches his hand and pulls him in, despite his resistance. He places a long warm kiss into his palm and then presses it against his cheek.

“Forgive me, that was uncalled for.”

Mike swallows. “Yeah, okay.”

“And it was untrue. You know that right? My stress level is an eleven, I’m saying things I don’t mean.”

Mike nods tensely.

“Come sit with me,” he says, scooting aside in the wide armchair. “I’ll give you my attention, if you need it. I will.”

Mike looks at the spot and shakes his head. “No, thanks. I’m cool.”

“Really? Then what was all this about?” 

He shrugs. “I just thought you might need something tonight. Get your mind off things. Something... rough maybe.” He glances at the wardrobe.

Harvey’s eyes narrow. “What makes you say that?”

“A high adrenalin scene relaxes you. That’s right, isn’t it?”

Although Mike is still wounded from Harvey’s comment, he allows himself to be pulled down for a kiss and ushered kindly toward bed without an answer to anything at all.

After staring at Harvey for another fifteen minutes from the bed, just in case, Mike rolls onto his back with one of their feather pillows under his head and drifts off.

 

 

Mike wakes with a start. His face is burning and a hand is tight around his wrist. He looks up, startled, to find Harvey looking down at him in the darkness. His chest is bare, but Mike can't tell from this angle what else is exposed. His eyes glisten from the glow of the digital clock on the bedside table. 

Mike reaches up to touch his hot and sensitive cheek. He'd been slapped.

"You wanna play rough?" Harvey's words are slurred with arousal, making his normally clear and precise tone lazy and crude.

Mike nods, his pulse thrumming in his neck and groin, and now, even in the skin of his reddening cheek.

Harvey holds his fist up with something balled between his fingers. If Mike squints he can just barely make out the white ribbed edge of one of his gym socks. Before he has time to protest the wad is crammed between his teeth. He groans in frustration and spits it out.

"Give me the ball instead," he says.

Harvey's eyes narrow dangerously. He grabs one of Mike's thin legs and flips him over. Mike pushes up with his hands to crawl away but Harvey is already pushing him down to the bed and pulling his hair back. Mike gasps and then shrieks as a series of rough slaps come down across his ass. Harvey knows Mike likes to bury his face in something to help muffle his cries. This is meant to force him to feel all the pain without any of the simple comforts he's learned to find during a spanking. After what feels like at least a dozen hard hits Mike begs for him to stop, which, to his surprise, Harvey does. Harvey pulls his hair back further and leans over until their cheeks touch - his hot red skin to Harvey's unshaven stubble. Harvey rubs them together while Mike whimpers softly.

"You gonna take the sock now, like a good boy?"

Mike nods enthusiastically and opens his mouth wide for the offered gag. It's not unclean. Harvey's never been into any of the more, shall we say, messy kinks. It's just that the sock doesn't really give Mike anything satisfying to bite into, and the fabric dries out his mouth in minutes, leaving him unpleasantly hoarse. Harvey arranges both his arms above his head and lets Mike watch as he shackles his hands together with a pair of leather cuffs. They've used it before. With his wrists attached to the rings in the headboard it forces Mike to lie face down and helpless, his hands turned away from the bars, unable to hold onto anything, or even adjust his weight. Usually it's infuriatingly frustrating, even maddening. But sometimes, when he's feeling particularly pliable, the helplessness is the greatest high short of chemicals. His cock twitches appreciatively when Harvey locks the last chain down and sits back.

From behind, Mike can hear Harvey squirt lube into his palm. His cock hardens fully at the implication. Harvey's been obsessed with fucking lately. _Hard_ fucking. A stark shift from their first time together when his Dom had treated Mike with calculated delicacy. All in all Harvey is still a Dom more likely to pet his Sub than whip him. But lately Harvey has been in a dark mood that sparks harsh and intense scenes. Fortunately Mike has nothing to complain about. Especially when the experience mellows Harvey out enough to put him back in one of his temperate and understanding moods. At least for a while.

Harvey shoves a pillow under Mike's hips and uses his dry hand to press down on the small of his back while the other presses three fingers into him. Mike arches back wantonly. 

"Do you want to see if I can get all five inside you?" Harvey asks, pushing down on Mike when he twitches away in surprise. "Shake your head no and I'll stop." Mike tenses his ass cheeks nervously before relaxing into his decision and spreading himself out further. Harvey has wanted this for a long time now, although he's never mentioned it. Not exactly. And now, with his muscles still pleasantly relaxed from sleep and the submissive languor that comes after a spanking, it seems like as good a time as any.

Harvey pets the long line of his spine again where sweat is starting to pool despite the A-class air-conditioning whirring almost silently above their heads. Gently and firmly he presses down on Mike's back as his other hand pushes in and fucks him with three curved fingers. Mike sighs in blissful pleasure, letting his forehead drop to the sheets while it still can. When they're both panting with need Harvey replaces the three with four curved digits - the most they've tried together. Mike grunts, his eyes clenched in nervous anticipation of pain. But after a while, as he relaxes into the rhythm of Harvey’s care, he realizes that there’s hardly any pain at all, just a fullness that signals to his brain, arousal, anticipation, and want.

At some point subspace kicks in and what’s left of his reservation fades out. Harvey has been pumping just the tips of all five fingers into him and twisting.

“Can you take it?” Harvey asks. 

Through the fog Mike can just barely distinguish his question as genuine hesitation, not playful teasing. He nods, grinds his knees firmly into the mattress and tightens his hands into fists. Harvey runs a hand up his back and into his hair, caressing him gently, before fisting his head back at the same moment he pushes everything into Mike with a shuddery sob that Mike can barely hear over his own muffled scream and explosive orgasm.

 

 

After untying him Harvey flips him over and enters his loosened hole gently, mindful of Mike's sensitive wilting erection. He pulls the gag from Mike's mouth and kisses him tenderly as he thrusts slowly and with infinite care. Mike stares up at his Dom with unmasked adoration and submissive trust as Harvey takes pleasure in his body, then slumps down beside him.

Mike stares up at the ceiling, feeling sleepy and high from subspace.

“Thank you,” Harvey says.

Mike looks over at his Dom who is staring at him from his pillow with intensely lidded eyes and frown lines.

Harvey has never thanked him for anything sexual before. He always takes or gives whatever’s needed and moves on, cocky even in the assurance of his skill.

“What for?”

He sighs. “I needed that, and, I wasn’t sure…”

“Wasn’t sure of what?”

“If you’d safeword out.” He throws an arm over his eyes. “Shit, I shouldn’t have gagged you.” He looks over at Mike with a look of panic. “Did you need –”?

“No, it’s okay. I’m fine. I… liked it. It was good.” He grins.

“Really?”

“Yeah. Really. You know I trust you.”

He runs his fingers over Mike’s temple, his expression searching. “You do, don’t you.” With a sigh he rolls onto his back and opens his arm for Mike to slide into his embrace. “You’re the first Sub who I’ve done that with.”

“No way. Seriously?”

“Ummhmm. If a Sub doesn’t trust you enough to relax it can hurt like hell. Or so I’m told.”

“But what about…” He doesn’t finish his thought. He just clears his throat and lowers his head back to Harvey’s bicep. He knows the subject of Scottie is off limits, but sometimes he forgets.

“Not all Subs are as moderate with their safeword as you.”

“Is that a good thing?”

Harvey’s shoulder shrugs below him. “Perhaps it shows we’re a good match. That you trust me, and that I know what you can and cannot take. It’s a good thing, so long as you never forget to use it if you really need to. Letting something go too far is more damaging to a relationship than the awkwardness of safewording. Believe me.”

Mike nuzzles into Harvey’s embrace and enjoys the peaceful silence they’ve fallen into. Harvey, at times like this – quiet, soft of touch, contemplative – has become a warning sign for Mike, who can now read even the most subtle of his Dom’s mood changes. True contentment after a scene results in Harvey either falling quickly to sleep, or else, fussing over Mike’s comfort until he himself blacks out. Just like their first time together when Harvey ended fearful of Mike’s reaction to their first fucking and needing reassurance. Harvey is now keeping him awake, quietly demanding an alert ear to whatever is warring around in his mind. A good scene is just as therapeutic for Harvey as it is for Mike, especially when it comes to digging out the thing even his solid confidence tries to bury.

“You can tell me,” Mike whispers, confident that his Dom will know what he means.

Harvey shifts uncomfortably and wipes a hand over his eyes. “I’m going to lose this case.”

Mike props himself up on one elbow, eye furrowed.

“It’s done. I can song and dance my way through the hearing, make it look like we’ll win, but we won’t.”

“Don’t say that. You’re the best closer -”

Harvey laughs ironically. “That’s not a name I gave myself, and not one I’ve been all that deserving of lately.”

Mike thinks over the past months. It’s true. Harvey has fallen off his game a little. Not much, but just enough to draw the attention of their superiors. 

Two of the companies Harvey had been sure he’d secured at the holiday gala were a bust, and three months ago Peter Leavitt and his up-and-coming automotive company backed out halfway through negotiations with Pearson Hardman to sign with a rival firm not more than a block away. Harvey tried, and failed, to get back in Leavitt’s graces. So upon Jessica’s urging, Mike was sent to try once again and just barely convinced him to return. Something about his subtle submissiveness charmed the over-dominant CEO and convinced him to put his multi-million dollar lawsuit against HGP financial in Harvey’s hands.

“I missed something, something big,” Harvey says. “I was so sure the defendant could be held liable for Leavitt’s losses. So did they, for that matter. But they can’t.” He turns to look at Mike, his expression frighteningly distraught. “I really fucked up. I can’t even imagine what Jessica will say after this loss. Waiving our fees will be laughable compensation. Without this settlement Leavitt will be bankrupt before he even gets off the ground floor. We’ll have to take a hit. A _big_ hit if we want to avoid a malpractice suit. Fuck. And it would be all my fault.”

“Malpractice? Harvey, it can’t be that bad.”

“Don’t be naïve, Mike. When you work with multi-million dollar lawsuits you better damn well win. And if you don’t it better not be because you were worried about overworking your associate with late night research.”

Mike sits up. “You mean I could have prevented this?”

Harvey shakes his head. “No. I don’t know, maybe. I don’t think any of us would have thought to dig _that_ deep before advising Leavitt to bring his case. Besides, I don’t like you doing busy work if you don’t have to.”

For the past few months Harvey has been giving him more slack at work. No matter how much he denies it, Harvey takes their personal life into consideration when assigning Mike projects. Neither of them acknowledges it because neither of them wants to have _that_ discussion. The discussion that leads to the inevitable, and completely unacceptable conclusion that mixing business with pleasure is a bad idea. They’re so fucking great together, at home and in the office. But when things get rocky on both ends, when the complications of being a new couple coincide with the complication of work, something has to give. They just quietly hope the sacrifices they make don’t come back to bite. And now, it looks like their lucky streak has run out.

“You said you didn’t need help. You said it was cut and dry. Harvey, I’ve read the case backwards and forwards. HGP financial has to be held liable. We did the research. We combed through their files as well as we would anyone’s.” His pulse is hammering in his ears. 

“Not well enough. They’re indemnified by a settlement agreement from 1994. I didn’t notice it. Even _they_ didn’t notice it, but they have now. They’ve been too quiet and that’s never a good sign. They have us by the balls, and they know it.” When he turns to look at Mike, it’s the most vulnerable he’s ever seen his normally put together Dom. “Peter Leavitt will find out I advised him to pursue a hopeless cause. He’ll discover he was right in thinking the invincible Harvey Specter isn’t as invincible as everyone thinks. I’ll be a failure, Mike.”

Mike shakes his head. “You can’t think of yourself in such black and white terms. You’re human, Harvey. Humans make mistakes. No one is invincible.”

Harvey doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t acknowledge that Mike is right and that it’s okay to fall off your horse once in awhile. He just exhales slowly and goes back to staring at the ceiling. Mike cuddles up closer to Harvey and runs a hand gently back and forth over his chest.

“We’ll figure it out together. We’ll work all weekend until we find a way to prove they’re liable. It’s what we do. We find the loophole that no one else saw and exploit it. Don’t give up Harvey. You never give up.”

Harvey nods stiffly.

“It’s gonna be fine. Great even. An awesome win,” Mike says with feigned conviction.

“Sure.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _**DISCLAIMER:** This fic includes BSDM scenarios that could be considered abusive and/or upsetting to some readers. It should, however, be noted that this fic illustrates an established relationship in which trust issues are being examined and tested. In some cases 'scenes' are meant to reflect a small degree of misjudgment that will be addressed at a later point in the story. Anyone interested in experimenting with BSDM should research safe-play and not take anything written here as an advisable scenario to replicate in real life. Remember, this is a piece of fiction that takes place in an alternate universe, and therefore does not accurately reflect the emotions, responses and/or outcomes of a scene. Your experiences will be dependent on your own situation and partner. Remember to ALWAYS experiment with a trust worthy partner, ALWAYS have a safe-word, and NEVER experiment with gags unless you have a non-verbal means of signaling should you need to end your scene. _


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _I'm going out of town for the weekend, so I wanted to get this posted before I leave. When I start a new fic it's exciting and fun and I have a hard time holding back chapters. Hopefully you don't mind ;) However, you can continue to expect a 7-10 day wait in the future..._
> 
> _This chapter contains a scene that might trigger some readers. For a slightly spoilery warning, refer to end notes._
> 
> _Enjoy!_

Court day the following Monday dawns on a foggy and chilly June morning. Harvey and Mike spent the night on the couches in Harvey’s office going over the case papers for, like, the fifteenth time. Mike had been almost aggressively persistent, to the point that he was one strike away from being dragged home for a punishment. It seems Harvey is losing tolerance for the pushy behavior he sometimes calls _endearing._

They wake up just as the sun is rising, surprised to still be in the office.

“Shit, I have to shower,” Harvey says, resigned.

Mike nods solemnly and follows him around half-dazed as he gathers their things into a briefcase. They take a cab back to the apartment where Mike is allowed to get ready while Harvey fusses one last time over what is literally a lost cause.

Mike wanders out in one of his best suits with his hair slicked to the side in a trick Harvey taught him. It’s a style that allows for a longer length undeniably satisfying to Harvey, but, when styled, is unquestionably Dom in the office. 

“Where do you think you’re going?” Harvey asks.

“The hearing?”

“Not necessary.”

“Why not? I want to be there.”

“It’s not your case.”

“I helped!”

“Yes, and I appreciate it.”

Mike crosses his arms over his chest and squares his shoulders in a way that infuriates Harvey when they’re not in the office.

“I’m coming. I invested time and energy into this too and I want to see it play out. You can’t stop me.”

Harvey stands abruptly, his eyes darker and his expression more fierce than it’s been since Mike earned his first spanking. It’s not something Harvey would expect Mike to misinterpret.

“Do what I tell you Mike, or God help me I’ll whip you so raw you’ll be bruised for a month.”

They’re both breathing laboriously. Mike suspects that half the reason Harvey’s expression hasn’t evened out now that the consequences are stated is Mike’s stubborn refusal to shift out of his dominant posture.

Mike reaches for his keys and snatches up his briefcase. “Fine. I’ll be at the office later. I’m going to see my grandmother first.” He’s vibrating with anger and disappointment as he passes Harvey. “Good luck,” he says without sincerity.

 

 

Mike wanders into his Gram’s room as she’s taking her last bite of eggs from a tray beside the bed. She’s watching _Good Morning America_ with a little smile as the hosts parade leashed baby zoo animals. Mike glances at his watch. It’s 8:30. He should have been at the office a half hour ago, but he doesn’t give a shit. No one but Louis will notice on a day like this, and what Louis thinks of him is not a concern right now.

“Hey Grammy.”  She looks up at him with a wide smile and pushes the rolling tray aside, struggling more than usual to stand.

“Hey, no, don’t do that. Sit down.” He rushes over and grabs her arm as she wobbles with determination to the couch. 

“Sit with me, Michael.”

He gets her situated and brings her the half-full coffee cup before settling beside her. He sinks into the cushions and feels his tension melt away. The warm familiar smell of her, the comforting weight of her hand on his knee, the sound of her voice as she hums melodically as he speaks, makes him nearly as relaxed as an evening at Harvey’s feet.

He assures her nothing is wrong, that Harvey is well. Everyone is fine. She looks at him with the wisdom of her age and experience. His grandmother had loved Harvey from the moment she met him. He’d even let her try to intimidate him without letting on that he knew her game. “He’s a strong and passionate soul,” she’d told him with sincerity. “He’s also temperate and forgiving.” It’s something Mike would have vigorously agreed with, at the time, but he’s beginning to question now. Perhaps unfairly. Everyone goes through dark seasons. 

They chat about mundane things, soaking up each other's company and intermittently watching TV. Finally she turns, grasps his hand and says, “I know my grandson and I know that look. Something has to be wrong at home for you to be so discouraged.”

He sighs and rubs the back of her freckled and wrinkled hand.

“Things at work have gone to shit. That’s all. Harvey is so used to being in control of everything.”

She sighs. “All Doms struggle when they can’t get a firm handle on what’s important to them. This won’t be the first time you’ll help him through something like this. I guarantee you.”

She says it with the finality and confidence of a Sub who’s been through much worse than what has Mike tied up in knots.

“So you’re saying,” Mike begins, but they’re interrupted by a coughing fit that Mike helps her tame with a sip of warm coffee.

“It’s just the tail end of a cold,” she says.

“You were sick? No one told me.”

She bats her hand dismissively. “What I was saying is that the only _good_ thing you can do for him is remind him that he’s still in control when it comes to you. Assure him that you don’t think less of him and that you will do what he needs to help him get through it.” She smiles. “You see? Just be his rock, Mike.”

Mike stares at the wall to the left of the TV thinking. _Be the ‘rock’?_ Isn’t that supposed to be Harvey’s job? 

 

 

No one notices that Mike straggles into the office at nearly 11am. Kylie asks how his lunch break was and Donna doesn’t even look up from her phone when he asks about Harvey. She grunts something unintelligible and eventually Mike wanders away.

Around two o’clock Louis wanders by his cubicle and stops with an elbow on top of his monitor.

“Your mentor lost his big case. Did you hear?” He looks positively gleeful.

“No.”

Mike refuses to look up from his email, so Louis bends down until his oily, round face is in Mike’s line of sight. Mike looks up at him reluctantly.

“Looks like his day in the sun is coming to an untimely end.”

Mike grits his teeth. “No lawyer wins every case. It doesn’t change the quality of their performance, or worth to a company. He’ll bounce back.”

Louis grins and reaches out to run a hand across Mike’s face, whether in jest or with what Mike is beginning to suspect is an unnerving sincerity, he doesn’t know. Either way, Mike jerks away and glares at Louis. 

“Such an innocent boy. This is Pearson Hardman, not some small time firm.”

Mike looks around the cubicles to be sure no one is paying attention. “Keep your hands off me, man.”

“Or what? It’s just a joke Mikey.” Louis winks and walks down the aisle, saying something to the other associates that Mike can’t quite hear through the buzzing in his ears.

Things with Louis have been getting progressively worse and infinitely more difficult to combat. Louis suspects something. More than likely he _knows_ something. Mike takes some comfort in the fact that there’s next to nothing he can do to prove it. Not now that Harvey has helped him invest in the legal altering of his orientation records. But still. Louis is a weasel and if there’s something damning to be found, he’ll find it.

Mike has been meaning to talk to Harvey about this. In fact, if Harvey knew how long he’s put it off, he’d be furious. But having to face the way Harvey will look at him, so disapproving and disappointed, makes him think that waiting it out and dealing with it himself, is a good idea.

Mike texts Donna.

_Is he back yet?_

_Yes._

_He’s not okay, huh?_

_No._

Mike slumps in his chair and lets his head fall back. He just wishes he knew what to do to make this all right. Shouldn’t a Sub, a _good Sub_ , know the right action to take?

Mike flicks off his computer and steps away to call Ethan. It still feels like a punch in the gut when he has to ask the prick for advice, but it’ll help confirm what his grandmother suggested and he’s already begun to suspect. He glances at Rachel’s closed office door on the way to the always deserted filing room. He wishes he could ask her instead, but Harvey has been painfully clear on that end, to both him and Donna. If they give their secret away to a Sub who could very well go tongue wagging to Jessica should her feelings ever get hurt, Mike’s legal aspirations will be wounded, and probably not without public disgrace - for him and Harvey both.

It just sucks. He’d love someone to talk to about these things. Someone who doesn’t have a smirking bitch face. Besides, he knows she wouldn’t do that to them. To _him._ Especially if she understood how much he’s worked to get where he is.

Halfway to the elevator Mike stops. He doesn’t have to tell her anything _specific_ right? She already thinks he’s gay. Or maybe, a switch or something. It wouldn’t give anything away if he asked her some basic, non specific questions. He turns around and glances into Harvey’s dark, empty office. He’s obviously off with Jessica trying, and probably failing, to stitch things back together. Donna’s desk is also empty. Good. No one to catch them.

 

 

“So… this is a new Dom you’re seeing?” Rachel’s eyes narrow as she grips her coffee cup.

Mike nods. “Yeah. He used to be with Subs mostly. You know, before. And sometimes it’s still a challenge, um, figuring out how to give him what he needs.”

She bites her lip and smiles. “I’ve never given sex advice to a gay before.”

“Not _sex_ advice. Just… advice.”

“Yeah, okay. What’s his deal then?”

Mike clears his throat and fiddles with the pen tips sticking out of a cup on her desk. “So, he’s having a really hard time with, like, pretty much _everything_ right now, and the more I try to be supportive, the more I seem to piss him off.”

“Piss him off how?”

“I don’t know. He snaps at me, says hurtful stuff he doesn’t mean. Aggression is literally rolling off him in waves and no matter how much I try to diffuse it, the next day he looks ready to punch a wall. It’s so not like him.”

Rachel hums. “That’s pretty common. I mean, don’t you deal with pent up dominant emotions?”

Mike rolls his shoulders back and shrugs. “Occasionally.”

“So what is he like? Normally?”

“Sweet, gentle, attentive. He likes to play rough sometimes, don’t get me wrong, even when he’s not in these moods. But... it’s like he’s throwing caution to the wind and hoping we come out okay on the other side.”

“Shit. You’re being careful, right?”

“Oh yeah,” Mike shakes his head. “He wouldn’t hurt me. I know he wouldn’t, he... he really cares for me.”

Rachel smiles sweetly. “I’m happy for you, Mike.”

“Thanks.”

“Okay then. Advice. Well, I guess.” She taps her well-manicured nails against the desk and bites her lips. “Okay, I had this Dom once. It didn’t work out for this very reason, so I’m not sure it’s very helpful. But…”

Mike nods.

“Sometimes when he needed to let his frustrations out, he’d try to play rough, just like you said. And I didn’t really mind it up to a certain point, but sometimes he would get kinda scary and I’d safe word out.”

Mike’s eyes narrow. 

“He was really good about stopping, but it didn’t fix the problem. And after a while I suggested he go to this club he liked to visit before we met.” She blushes. “It was one of those places where Subs who want to get hit hard go to do it safely. It worked out okay, but when he started seeing another Sub behind my back, I called it quits. We weren’t a good fit. Obviously.”

“You think I should get him another Sub? I mean, a Sub to let him take it out on, instead of me?” Mike’s insides are knotted, worried she caught his slip. 

“No!” she says without missing a beat. “God, no.”

“Then you think…”

“Listen, I can’t tell you what he needs, but on those rare occasions when a Dom has no idea what they need, it’s on us to try and figure it out. My point is that although I wasn’t what my Dom needed, I’m happy I helped him find what he did need. Does that make sense?”

Mike nods.

“And even if you’re wrong, it’s worth trying. Just… don’t do anything you’ll regret later.”

 

 

Mike sees Harvey only briefly during the last few hours that day. Once when he sneaks a peek down the hall and into his office where Harvey is sitting with his forehead in one palm, flipping through something on his laptop, and again when he spots him following Jessica into a conference room on the other side of the office. Mike bites his cheek and keeps working.

That night, Mike has been home for over three hours before Harvey straggles in. He’d made them both dinner and left a plate to warm up for Harvey. He organizes the mess of document copies Harvey left on the kitchen table and files them in his office where they’re out of sight. As soon as Harvey comes in the door, Mike stands, goes over to him silently, and starts taking things out of his hands. He keeps his eyes down as he works. First he takes the keys that are clenched too tightly in Harvey’s fist, then the briefcase. Harvey stands still while Mike empties his pockets of his cell phone and wallet, both of which he sets in their correct place on the entryway table. Harvey lifts up his arms as Mike helps him out of his jacket. When Mike begins to kneel down for his shoes, Harvey pulls him up by the arm, kisses him on the corner of the mouth, and walks around him. He doesn’t even look back as he disappears down the hall and into the bedroom where Mike can hear the door click shut.

Mike looks around the living room, lost.

On the counter he spots the plate of food covered in foil. Thinking it’s as good a next step as any he goes over, uncovers the slices of meatloaf and vegetables, and pops it in the microwave. He leans over and stares in at the spinning dish and humming machine long after he realizes it’s probably not so good for his eyes. At least, his Gram always told him that.

Using a tray Harvey keeps around for breakfasts in bed, he sets the plate out beside a fork, napkin, and glass of red wine he’d uncorked for himself. He pads barefoot with his offering and stands awkwardly at the door.

“Harvey. Can I come in?”

There’s a long silence before Mike hears a cough and mumbled sound that probably signifies permission.

As soon as Harvey sees the food he grins marginally and shakes his head.

“What a good boy. But, no. No, thank you.”

“You should really eat.”

“I’m fine.” He rubs at his face until the skin goes pink. “Besides, it’s not your job to take care of me.”

Mike wants so badly to raise his voice, get pushy, demand that Harvey stop being such a dickwad and let someone do something good for him. Instead he breathes deep, steadying himself into a decision he’d made hours ago while he was sitting at his desk staring at his reflection in the monitor, quietly panicking.

After setting the tray aside Mike walks over and stands just within touching range.

“You were going to punish me,” he says. It’s not a question.

Harvey looks up. “What?”

“I was disrespectful. I know I was.”

Harvey stares at him with confused concentration. “What are you talking about?”

“This morning.”

“Mike, I’m not in the mood to play right now. For fuck’s sake.”

Mike rings his hands nervously.

“I just wanted to tell you that I’ll accept my punishment. I was out of line. I’ll wait in the office for you.”

Harvey’s brow evens out in what he thinks might be understanding. Mike turns and walks on shaky legs to the office where Harvey recently installed two sets of rings into the wall. One set is high on the wall, near the ceiling, just high enough to keep a Sub exactly Mike’s height restrained with his arms overhead, and his feet teetering between a grounded heel to floor and a less steady tiptoe. The other set is installed a little lower, intended for a kneeling Sub. On the floor below the rings is a square pad not unlike Mike’s old yoga mat. 

Mike strips from his nightclothes, which he folds up and sets on the desk chair. Finally, with a few sets of deep steadying breaths, he faces the wall and kneels to wait. This might be a terrible idea, but it’s worth trying. That’s what Rachel said, right? Something good could come from it. _Should_ come from it.

Usually Harvey makes Mike wait in anticipation for a long time before joining him. When it’s about play, the nervous anticipation is meant to heighten his arousal. However, when he’s facing a real punishment, when getting whipped is meant as a deterrent for bad behavior, the time allows Mike to contemplate what he did. He thinks about why he deserves getting hurt, and most importantly, how he’s going to accept what he can’t avoid so that they can move on with Mike forgiven of his transgression. 

Like the time he spent all evening with Trevor and came back hoping Harvey wouldn’t notice the smell of Subspace Jenny was smoking, or the guilty look in his eyes from disobeying a clearly understood rule. Or when they got into a fight and Mike locked himself in his old room all night, just to make a point. Harvey even let him do it. Mike had expected him to knock at the door, but instead he waited for Mike to come out of the room and apologize. When he punished Mike for that it was with surprisingly measured patience. Mike hasn’t tried that again, not because the punishment was bad, but because he’d already learned his lesson before he wandered out the next morning. Trying to deal with something alone is miserable. Mike hopes Harvey figures that out soon.

Mike is on his knees less than five minutes before he hears Harvey come in and stand behind him.

“Are you sure?”

Mike nods. “Yeah.”

Harvey is quiet, observing. “Knees or feet?”

Mike thinks about this. If he’s restrained standing it’ll give Harvey a broader range of motion and wider distribution of lashes. Although Mike will surely have to endure abuse to his ass and thighs, which will make sitting extremely difficult for at least a week, it would significantly decrease the severity of punishment to his back. If he kneels, Harvey won’t be able to concentrate on his thighs at all, and his ass only minimally. His back will be bruised, that’s unavoidable, but in the long run he’d rather deal with sleeping on his stomach than the unbearable discomfort of trying to sit naturally in a desk chair.

Also, when Mike kneels he usually lasts longer. It’s not the most encouraging thing, considering, but perhaps it’s best for Harvey tonight.

“Knees,” he decides with finality.

Harvey crouches down behind him and fastens his wrists up over his head to the lower manacles. Mike offers each wrist willingly and without resistance. It’s a stark contrast to the first time these restraints were used for punishment. That time, it took all Mike’s will power to release his indignant control. If he remembers correctly, he was stiff as a board.

Harvey disappears into the bedroom where he can hear the wardrobe being opened, shifted through, and closed. Somehow the sounds are almost too loud in the stillness.

When Harvey is standing behind him again, Mike tucks his head down, spreads his legs just enough to expose his slightly raised ass, and thrust his back out as if in offering.

“What’s your safe word?”

“Subpoena,” Mike says without hesitation.

“All you have to do is say it.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“You don’t need to count. This isn’t-” he’s breathing deeply. “This isn’t a punishment.”

Mike adjusts himself, wanting desperately to move past the verbal reassurance. He wants to tell Harvey that talking him through this, reassuring him of what he already knows, is not going to make it easier for him to get tanned for no reason. He needs to just fucking do it already.

“Yes, sir,” is all Mike can settle on saying without truly adding anger – anger actually directed at _Mike_ – to what he’s already going to have taken out on his back. He grips the chains under each palm and grits his teeth against the first lash. He exhales. It’s only a belt. Stinging pain? Yes. Some bruising? Yes. But nothing like the whip or flogger, both of which Harvey has used before, albeit sparingly.

The second lash curls around his side and stings the sensitive skin near his belly. He hisses, but doesn’t cry out. Somehow, knowing that this isn’t about him, about his mistakes and failings, makes it so much easier.

The fifth strikes at the base of his spine, just above his ass. He jerks, but remains silent.

Now, that’s not to say that he isn’t going to come apart near the end. His will is stronger than his body, no matter what the reason for getting whipped is. 

The eighth and ninth come down over his ass making him keen.

The difference is that usually he senses Harvey’s disappointment in every strike, and although that disappointment is literally being whipped out of Harvey and into Mike’s flesh, allowing for forgiveness in its wake, the anguish of being in this position when his Dom would rather he had been good enough to not be, is unbearable.

The thirteenth lash is a little too high, almost across his shoulders. He yelps. Harvey’s distracted, sloppy. He waits several beats for Mike’s safe word before starting again.

When they play at this, that’s a different story altogether. Then, it’s fun. The whippings are given with only a hint of pain and a concentration on pleasure, teasing, and the anticipation of joyful lovemaking when Mike is unshackled.

Spankings are also a much a different story. They both learned about a month into the collaring that Mike gets too much pleasure out of even a punishing spanking for it to do much good. It works well for reinforcement, but for a real lesson it’s ineffective. It was around that time Harvey installed these restraints.

By the nineteenth Mike has to stop thinking and start gritting his teeth. He can’t remember Harvey ever going past twenty-five. Maybe thirty. 

The skin at the small of Mike’s back is starting to throb the most. He knows without doubt that he’ll have purple bruises where his ribs are widest, just under his arms. He’s not sure how Harvey will react to that. A punishment deserves it. Play doesn’t result in it. This is something else entirely.

Somewhere around twenty-eight Mike actually shouts out in pain. Harvey waits again for the safe word. When it doesn’t come and Mike pushes his back out again in offering, Harvey falls back into his slow but steady rhythm. Through the fog Mike realizes that the strength behind the lashings has severely lessened. Harvey’s arm is coming down almost lazily over his back. Judging by the heavy panting breaths behind him, the movement, even if it’s lost its urgency, is doing something.

Mike is crying silently when he realizes it’s stopped. He takes big shuddery breaths, his surprisingly calm mind trying to talk his body into joining, but it isn’t obeying. His wrists are suddenly free and falling down to the ground where he collapses sideways, catching himself on his elbow. When he looks up, expecting to see only the undone chains hanging before him, Mike finds Harvey slumped down against the wall, panting. His arms are laid over his knees with the belt still gripped in one hand. His eyes are trained solidly on Mike.

“Come here,” he whispers.

Mike exhales and crawls shakily until he can collapse across his Dom’s lap, face buried under his chin. Harvey lays the belt aside and his hands touch Mike’s back, whisper soft. Mike hisses at the contact and Harvey’s hands move to a more comfortable place on his thighs. Although Mike is trying not to sound like he’s crying he can’t hold back the hiccup. 

“God, Mike.” Harvey says, his own voice shattered. He lifts Mike’s chin up gently. At first Mike can’t look him in the eye, but when he does he’s glad of it. Harvey takes his face between two palms and begins kissing him, almost frantically.

“You’re so good to me. So incredibly good.”

Mike lets Harvey press their cheeks together. “Did it help?” He croaks out.

“Yes.”

Mike nods. “Then it was worth it.” He wipes at his face where the tears are starting to dry.

They embrace each other, Mike rubbing his face against Harvey’s shirt every time he feels like crying, and Harvey kissing any part of him he can reach without disturbing his back.

Mike had worried he might resent Harvey for choosing to do this, but he doesn’t. Not at all. If anything, he feels closer to his Dom than he ever has before. Harvey always knows what he needs. He knows when and how to give him those things. He even knows when to stop, but Mike… Mike just takes whatever Harvey gives him, hoping he’s good enough. For once, Mike took initiative. He identified what his Dom needed and gave it to him. He took the weight off Harvey’s shoulders and carried it on his own, just as Harvey had done for him so many times.

Mike smiles. It doesn’t hurt so much when you know you’re carrying it away from the person you love the most.

Yeah, love. Undoubtedly, love. 

The fact that the first time the knowledge is crystal clear to him is just after being whipped, doesn’t exactly make sense, but he doesn’t care.

He leans back and smiles where Harvey can see it. 

“What did I do to deserve you?” Harvey asks, awed.

Mike leans in and lets Harvey hold his limp frame. “You took care of me. Even when I didn’t deserve it.”

Under different circumstances, Harvey might argue with him. He might insist that Mike always deserves being taken care of, but now, he seems to understand, maybe for the first time, what it feels like to be cared for even when you feel desperately undeserving.

Harvey caresses his cheeks, leans their foreheads together, and lets their breath mingle in the space where no more words can be found.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Chapter contains 100% consensual impact play/punishment with belt._


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Thank you to everyone who has been reading, commenting and sending me all those delicious kudos. I appreciate it more than I can say. Unfortunately this chapter is less smutty than the previous, but that's a short-term problem that will be remedied in the next installment ;)_
> 
>  
> 
> _Enjoy!_

Mike is laid out on their bed, face down, as Harvey rubs a healing lotion with something cold and soothing mixed in, like Aloe Vera. If this had been a punishment, he wouldn’t have been given it. But it isn’t, so he luxuriates in the pampering treatment.

Harvey has been very quiet.

“It probably looks worse than it feels,” Mike says, turning his head on the pillow. It’s not exactly true, but he hopes he sounds reassuring.

Harvey says nothing as he continues to gently massage the lotion into his skin. Finally, he caps the bottle and tosses it aside. Although he’s careful to rest his trembling hands where the skin isn’t so raw, Mike can still feel every twitch.

“I want to hold you so bad, but I can’t.”

Mike looks over his shoulder and, not minding how much the effort will pull at his skin, he gets up on his knees and turns to straddle Harvey’s lap.

“I wish you wouldn’t move.”

“You want to hold me, but wish I wouldn’t move. What’s it going to be? You can only choose one.” He smiles. “I should point out that I’ve already moved, so the second choice is pretty much shattered.” 

Harvey holds his arms up, both now unclothed. Mike burrows into his embrace and nudges him with his nose when the arms fail to fall down around him.

“Come on, Harvey. I made it through thirty-five lashes. I think I can stand the discomfort of your arms against me.”

“God. Was it that many? Fucking hell.”

“It’s cool. You hardly put anything behind the last ten or so.” He smiles but Harvey doesn’t look consoled. “So, do you want to talk about it? The hearing, I mean.” 

Harvey shakes his head. “Nothing to say. I lost, just as I predicted. Jessica looked at me all day like I was the greatest disappointment of her life, and I spent the rest of the time feeling like she was right.”

Mike wants to say, again, that Harvey’s not a disappointment. That Jessica is a fool to judge him on one defeat when he has a nearly flawless track record, but none of that is going to help. “Well then, we’ll make sure you win the next one with flying colors. No. With fireworks and a fucking marching band behind it. Then this will all be forgotten.”

Harvey nods. “Yeah. Okay.” 

Mike bites back a groan when Harvey hugs him tighter, determined to not let his physical discomfort get between them right now.

“I was so lost. It scares me how affected I can be by… it’s just a job, right?”

“Your work means a lot to you. You’ve always loved it.”

“Yes, but not as much as -” he pauses and Mike shifts, squeamish about the word constantly left unsaid between them. “Thank you for that, but I promise to never allow myself to get so worked up again.”

Mike shakes his head. “Don’t promise that. I liked being what you needed. It felt good, in a weird way. Still does.”

Harvey laughs. “I’m not sure when, but at some point you completely lost your mind, Michael Ross.”

Mike kisses him on the lips. “I’ll take that as a thank you.”

 

 

A week later Mike is pretty much back to new again. His back has healed remarkably well due to Harvey’s OCD coddling. While the pain lasted, Mike and Harvey found themselves closer than ever. Mike worried after their conversation that night that as the endorphins wore off and reality set back in, Harvey would grow regretful of what they’d done and Mike resentful despite himself. But the opposite happened – the display of selfless sacrifice has cemented Harvey’s trust in his own handling and understanding of their needs, and Mike’s trust in Harvey’s ability to do so. 

On a Friday morning Harvey pets Mike’s naked back as they sit at the breakfast counter. Harvey is already fully dressed while Mike remains in the cotton shorts he forgot to take off the night before when he’d fallen, exhausted into bed. The clean up from Harvey’s massive loss has taken a toll on pretty much everyone in the office. The good news, however, is that with a lot of convincing and what might amount to the biggest financial hit yet, Leavitt’s company will probably stay with Pearson Hardman.

“Want to go out to dinner tonight?”

Mike shrugs. “Yeah, sure. Sounds nice.” He smiles as he takes a bite of cold cereal – neither of them willing to stand over the stove, nor even the microwave.

“Jacob invited us. Well, me, but you’ll come of course.”

Jacob is the Dom Harvey introduced Ethan to at a company gala several months earlier. Despite Ethan’s reputation for being flighty, it seems Harvey’s matchmaking skills were spot on. He’d found a Dom unique (and rich) enough to settle Ethan down, maybe for good. 

Mike sighs and nods. It’s not the first time the four of them have been out together, but it is the first time since Mike began to suspect that Jacob no longer believes that he and Harvey are merely co-workers. Co-workers don’t go to romantic dinners together unless business is on the table, and with Jacob the avenues for talking about his father’s company are pretty much closed. At this point, it’s a couples date and Mike thinks Harvey is the only one who doesn’t know that. If Ethan weren't so good at convincing Mike that his Dom is more discreet than any he’s known – and that’s saying something – Mike would have started refusing to continue this farce by now.

“What time?” Mike asks.

“Eight.”

“Okay.” He kisses Harvey on the cheek as he hurries behind his stool and into the bedroom where his suit is hanging out on the closet door.

 

 

“I heard about the trouble with Peter Leavitt’s account.” Jacob has a quiet lilting voice that Mike usually associates with Subs. A tone even _he_ sometimes falls into when relaxed and drifting into subspace. On the young Dom, however, it’s more like the whisper of a rider calming a skittish horse. Even when Ethan is entirely at ease, he seems hypnotized and entranced by his attentive Dom’s sturdy posture and soothing tones.

Harvey perks up and clutches at his thigh in a gesture that would go unnoticed as discomfort by anyone but Mike, or maybe Donna.

“I can’t say I have anything redeeming to say on that score, except to ensure my other clients that similarly unfortunate outcomes will not be tolerated again by me, or the firm.”

Jacob grins and lifts his wine glass in a toast. The glass shimmers with the reflection of the dim lighting above. “My father won’t abandon Pearson Hardman come hell or high water. You know how he is about professional fraternity.” Mike raises his glass with Harvey and Jacob as if to secure the appearance of his dominant role at the table. 

He might be imagining it, but he thinks he catches Jacob’s eye flicking to meet his in ironic amusement.

“Your family’s account is extremely important to me. I consider you and your father family, and like family I will fight to protect your interests.”

“Yes. I appreciate that, Harvey.”

Most would miss it, but when Mike’s Dom face is on he’s on high alert, so he notices when Ethan’s hand gently rests on his Dom’s inner elbow for permission to speak. He does so without pushing, tapping, or even glancing up in begging encouragement. The near perfect submissive gestures Ethan has mastered after a lifetime of practice still cause Mike to boil with jealousy and self-doubt. Jacob hums in approval.

“If I might speak for my Dom, there was no intention of testing your loyalty, Harvey.”

Jacob nods enthusiastically as the waiter comes to clear away their dinner plates. Up until then, the conversation had been remarkably easy. 

“No, nothing like that. I hope you didn’t misunderstand. Every so often Ethan starts begging for a night out with friends, and you, the both of you, are some of our favorite company.”

Mike can’t imagine Ethan begging for anything so likely to cause his Dom jealousy. Skillfully manipulate, however, maybe. He and Harvey have often talked about how strange it is that Jacob would seemingly seek out the friendship of his Sub’s former Dom. And yet, there seems to be something decidedly unconventional about the couple. Mike would harbor a bet that they often enjoy the company of other Subs and perhaps even the rare addition of a second Dom. It would certainly explain their generosity in including Harvey in their acquaintance. At some point Mike expects that Harvey will ask him to consider a threesome. He just hopes they’ll be at a point in their relationship where his fervent denial will not cause an argument. Sometimes he thinks Ethan looks at him with far too much consideration.

After dinner Jacob encourages Harvey to join them at the club across the street. He and Harvey have been there before, but Mike’s discomfort with the proximity to the office makes it impossible for him to relax.

Mike gives Harvey a look that he hopes will convey tiredness, but Harvey misses it completely and agrees to go.

Once inside, Ethan saunters to the counter, pushing aside dozens to get their drinks.

“He’s remarkable, isn’t he?”

The two Doms lean toward each other in a camaraderie Mike realizes he is instinctively excluded from. Harvey smirks and makes a joke that at once congratulates Jacob on his catch and dismisses Harvey as having any interest in the goods.

“You and Ethan have become close in the past few months,” Jacob suddenly says in Mike’s ear. He startles.

“Not close. Occasional friends.”

Harvey has stepped away to help Ethan carry the drinks over, and more than likely ensure it’s his card that’s put down for the tab. “He talks fondly of your time together.”

Mike looks away from Jacob’s searching gaze and then snaps back to attention when he realizes his opportunity to be alone with the man is slipping.

“Neither Harvey nor I are competition. You know that right? Because sometimes it seems like you’re digging.”

Jacob smiles broadly, perhaps even amusedly. “My Sub is loyal. I know how to keep him that way. But that’s not why I ask.” 

“What then?”

“Why can’t you believe I’m merely making conversation? We share a, _friend_ as you say. I like to know what he does with the social freedom I allow him, that’s all.”

“Nothing you would disapprove of.”

Ethan hands his Dom a drink and glances, questioning, at Mike. “I’m glad to hear it,” Jacob concludes.

“I want to dance,” Ethan says matter-of-factly and with unveiled excitement. 

Jacob pulls his Sub away from where Mike and Harvey lean against a tall cocktail table.

“They seem happy,” Harvey says.

“Yeah, they’re a good match.” Mike stares at Harvey with longing, observing his gentle smile and relaxed carefree disposition. Harvey returns his gaze, then subtly and discreetly, slides a hand across Mike’s hip under the table’s edge. 

“I wish I could touch you as freely as they do.” Harvey leans over to whisper, as if it were possible for anyone to hear them over the vibrating club beat. “I wish I could show you off, let everyone see how perfect you are.”

Mike swallows and concentrates on willing away his growing erection. With difficulty he looks away, then steps out of his Dom’s reach. “It’s not worth it,” he says apologetically. “You say so yourself. All the time.”

Harvey nods. With an apologetic smile they each go in opposite directions, in search of a Sub to pretend to flirt with for the rest of the night.

 

 

Mike comes up with an idea the next Saturday night while they watch a movie on HBO.

 _Casino Royal_ with Daniel Craig is on, and even though it’s twenty minutes in, and even though Harvey prefers classic James Bond, they decide it’s better than the alternative - a failed rom-com with Katherine Heigl.

“You know, you look a little like Daniel Craig.”

Harvey snorts. “No I don’t.”

Mike looks up from where he’s laying with his head against his Dom’s shoulder, and observes Harvey’s square angular face and expressive lips. “Yeah, you’re right. You’re much better looking.”

Harvey smiles down at him, pulls him in, and kisses him affectionately on the temple. “Thank you, baby.”

Mike sinks back into Harvey’s embrace and watches as the scene opens to a panoramic view of Bond recovering from injury on the shores of Lake Como.

“Wow. That’s beautiful,” Mike whispers.

“Yes. Yes, it is,” Harvey replies. “One of my favorite places in the world.”

“You’ve been there?”

“Yes.”

“Like... for vacation? You take vacations?”

“Pearson Hardman offers generous paid holidays. Of course I do.”

“Cool. It’s just,” he grins, “you seem like more of a Miami kinda guy.”

“Italy has a unique way of making you forget your worries.”

Mike stares at Harvey’s faraway expression, an idea already forming in his mind.

That night, after Harvey falls asleep, Mike scoots to the edge of the bed and plucks his laptop off the floor where he’d left it charging. Sitting in the glow of the screen, Mike starts rapid fire googling vacation hot-spots in Lake Como. Expensive ones.

After sifting through a dozen unimpressive five star hotels and three spas clearly designed for retirees, he finds something truly special mentioned on a forum. It’s a highly exclusive, top security resort with a price tag to match. There’s no website, but with a detective's eye he riddles out its contact info and even finds a couple of pictures on someone’s unprotected Facebook. Judging from one Dom’s forum comment, it’s not more than Mike can afford, especially considering that Harvey has returned every rent check he’s tried to sneak into his bank account for nine months, and rarely lets him pick up the grocery and dinner-out tabs. So, even after his monthly payout for Gram’s medical, he still has an absurd amount regularly depositing into his high-interest savings.

It’s called _Villa Roissy_ , and it’s perfect. It sits on a picturesque lake coast, not unlike that in the film, but unlike every other place he’s looked at. It’s not known only for it’s gilded staircases and extraordinary pool sides, its prestige appears to be its discretion. Roissy is where people can pay to go and guarantee no one is watching. It’s a resort that caters to couples seeking private - and if they choose to take advantage of the incredible nightclub, cocktail lounge, or “playroom”, _not so private_ company. He grabs his phone off the nightstand and types out a message to Donna. The woman never sleeps.

_MR: We need a long weekend. I want to get Harvey out of the city. WAY out. Can his schedule handle it?_

He doesn’t even set the phone down, he just sits cross-legged looking at the little screen while Harvey breathes deeply beside him.

_DP: What’s your story for why you both need the time?_

_MR: Was hoping you’d mastermind that part._

There’s a longer pause this time, but when the reply comes, it makes Mike smile like a kid.

_DP: Wed 7/10-Sun 7/14. We’ll say he’s vacationing at his timeshare in Florida. You’re taking advantage of his absence to visit family. Now go to sleep before you get in trouble for plotting!_

God. He knew it. Harvey is totally a Miami kinda guy.

 

 

The next morning Harvey nudges him while he eats an egg and sausage scramble at the counter.

“You’re smiling,” he says with amusement while running a hand gently along his exposed thigh. All in all, Mike has gotten used to hanging out naked in the morning. Harvey likes it and he has to admit there’s something freeing about being without clothes.

Mike pops an orange slice into his mouth and smiles around it. Harvey laughs, shakes his head, and goes back to reading the finance section.

He spits the orange out onto the plate and bites his lip.

“So, I might have done something you’ll get mad at me for.”

Harvey looks over at him with confusion. “Something that will make me mad, but makes you positively gleeful? What could that be?”

“Oh, okay! So then you promise you won’t yell?”

“No.”

Mike pouts.

“Tell me.”

“You remember how you said you love Lake Como?”

“That was last night. My memory is in working order, yes.”

“Right. So... well, I want to go there. I mean, I want to take you there.”

“Is that a fact?” Harvey grins and chuckles. “That’s a sweet thought, Mike. Maybe sometime.” He ruffles Mike’s hair and Mike frowns.

“No. Not sometime. Now. In two weeks, actually. July tenth. I already emailed the place.” Mike says this all with indignant finality, most of his joyful energy diffused by Harvey’s dismissive and vaguely condescending attitude.

“What!?”

“I still have to book plane tickets or whatever, but-”

“What the fuck, Mike?!”

“I thought you’d be excited.”

“I briefly mentioned that I enjoy going to Lake Como, practically in passing, not even twelve hours ago and now you’ve already planned a trip there?”

“Too quick?”

“What do you think?” He stands up and snatches the plate from in front of Mike.

“Hey, I wasn’t done.”

“You’re fine.”

“But I need to put on weight, isn’t that what you’re always saying?” He reaches for the retreating plate but Harvey isn’t paying him a stitch of attention.

When he comes back in he’s practically storming. “When did all this happen,” he asks, swirling his hands between them.

“After you fell asleep.”

“Really. And you didn’t think I’d have an issue with you pretending to fall asleep and then sitting up and planning something, _literally_ behind my back.”

“Donna did say something about me getting in trouble for plotting.”

“Donna knows about this!?” Okay, he’s definitely shouting now.

Mike narrows his eyes in defiance. He refuses to get in trouble for doing something nice for Harvey. There are no rules, no understandings, and no rational reasons why he can’t take his Dom on a vacation. He _is_ the other half of this relationship! 

“You know what,” he says, standing up and pointing a finger at Harvey. “I’m allowed to make my own plans. I make a shitload of money you don’t let me spend, and now I’ve found something I want to spend it on. If you want to come with me, great. If not, then, I guess I’ll just go alone.”

He turns on his heel and walks confidently to the bathroom where he slams the unlocked door, just to underscore his point. As he looks in the mirror it occurs to him that he might have looked kind of ridiculous pulling Dom while bare-ass naked and still rumpled from when Harvey attacked him in bed that morning. But, whatever.

He washes his face in an attempt to clean off the frustration, then starts brushing the coffee taste from his mouth. Harvey opens the door and leans against the frame. They stare at each other in the mirror.

“Okay. I’ll bite. What’s the place?”

Mike brushes for another thirty seconds at least, just to be a pain in the ass, spits, wipes his mouth, and sips from the glass cup on the counter.

“It’s called Villa Roissy, and it’s wonderful.”

Harvey looks taken aback. “Villa Roissy?”

“Yeah.”

“You told Donna about this?”

“No details, just that I wanted to take you out of the city. Why?”

“And you said you emailed them?”

“Yep.”

“And you got in?”

“Uh huh.”

“How?”

Mike turns around and gives him a questioning look. “What do you mean, how? I have the money, they have availability. Isn’t that how it works?”

“At a hotel, yes. At Villa Roissy, no.”

“You know about it already?! Damnit!”

“This is why it’s best to actually discuss plans with your partner before making them.”

“Yeah, well. It seemed like a good idea at the time.”

“Mike. It was thoughtful. It was.”

“So I should cancel.”

“No, don’t cancel.”

“But I wanted it to be a thing I did for you. And now that’s ruined cause you’ve been there before.”

“I’ve been there before because I have impeccable taste, and apparently so do you because you found it in one night on Google. I’d been to Lake Como twice before I was told of it. I requested a reservation three times before they let me in.”

Mike sits on the edge of the bed and pulls on a pair of boxers. He points at a pair of jeans sitting on the chair and Harvey goes to get them. He shakes them out and hands them to Mike. If they weren’t so distracted, he realizes Harvey would have scolded him for attempting to direct him.

“So what... then I shouldn’t cancel?”

“Tell me first how you got a reservation.”

“I don’t know, okay! I found a forum where someone said that I should email booking inquiries with my party names and dates and they would respond with availability.”

“Ah.”

Mike buttons his jeans and sits back down with a humph. Harvey hands him a t-shirt. “So I got a reservation ‘cause they thought I was you. That’s what you’re saying.”

Harvey doesn’t respond.

“Un-fucking-believable.”

“Mike, language.”

“I try to do something on my own, and what happens? I pick a place that isn’t even new, isn’t even a fucking surprise, and. -”

Harvey sits down next to Mike and grabs his hands firmly.

“Calm down and control your mouth, Mike. I’m being very generous here.”

Mike exhales but doesn’t apologize.

“It’s a perfect vacation, okay? We’re going.”

Mike looks at him dubiously.

“I want to take you there. The more I think about it, the more I love the idea.”

“Really?”

“Yes.”

“How come?”

Harvey strokes the inside of his wrist and smiles mischievously. “Well, for starters, it’s the most beautiful place in the world and I’d love to see you there.” Mike blushes. Harvey leans in and says against his ear, like a secret, “but mostly it’s that I can flaunt you there. I can take you out with your collar exposed. I can kiss you, touch you, even _fuck_ you, anywhere I want, anytime I want.”

Mike’s face is hot and his breathing labored at the insinuation. 

“Fuck me?”

“Anything I want, Mike. Anything and everything I’ve ever wanted to do to you I can do there.”

“You can do anything you want to me here,” he says as if buying himself time from what suddenly seems like a terrifying and intimidating prospect. For fuck’s sake, he’d known they’d be a _little_ more open about their relationship, but, he hadn’t thought far ahead.

“Yes, but I want to show off. You know what a cocky son of a bitch I am. I like to flaunt what I’ve earned, and you - you are my most prized possession.”

Mike lets Harvey kiss him and push him down to the bed. At least with his hands and mouth busy getting under Mike’s belt, he won’t be able to see the panic on his face.

Shit. What had he gotten himself into?


	4. Chapter 4

“How do you feel about... exhibitionism,” Mike says as he stabs a piece of steak and arugula salad at a bistro on Lexington.

Rachel snorts around the mouthful of diet-coke she’d been sipping. She buries her face in a napkin and moans.

“Shit. That really hurt,” she whines.

A second ago Mike had been a bundle of nerves, but now he can’t help but want to laugh. She wipes at her face as demurely as possible considering that there is probably snot running down her chin.

Finally, she sets it aside, crosses and re-crosses her legs, and smiles at him as if nothing had happened. “Why do you ask, Mike?” she says, too nonchalantly.

He shrugs. “I think the, uh, Dom, I’m seeing might be into it.”

He stabs at a baby potato pathetically with his fork as it rolls around on the plate, dodging his every attempt. When he realizes Rachel has said nothing, he looks up and finds her staring at him with wide eyes.

“Oh god! No, Rachel, I wasn’t suggesting... I didn’t mean you and Donna. I wasn’t propositioning you.”

She exhales. 

“Sorry. No. I just mean. I don’t know if I’m into it and I wanted to, you know, talk.”

Her shoulders visibly slump in relief. “That was weird.”

“Sorry.”

“Okay, so. You wanted to talk because... I seem like the kind of Sub that likes to bend over in front of a crowd?” 

A Dom at the table next to them turns and stares, then ever so slightly shifts to block their kid from the neighboring conversation.

“I don’t mean that. It’s just not something I’ve done before, even with a Sub or whatever. And I thought maybe I was being a prude.”

“No. Not a prude. Pretty normal actually. And yeah, I’ve done it before. And honestly, I don’t really see the appeal. But that’s me and not everyone’s the same.”

He hums in acknowledgment and they both go back to eating lunch as if there isn’t this awkward thing hanging between them now. When they get back to the office, they must be acting unusual because Harvey stops him as they pass in the hall to inquire, and he’s pretty sure he sees Donna leaving Rachel’s office looking stumped.

 

 

Mike barely makes it in through Ethan’s front door before he slumps down exhausted. His legs feel like jelly, he’s sweating through every inch of fabric, and the edges of his running shoes are digging into his feet. He rips them off and falls back against the wall, panting. Ethan is standing before him, running in place and looking fairly well put together. Fucker.

“Do you need water or something?” he asks. 

“Yeah.”

When Ethan comes back with two cold bottles from the fridge he at least has the decency to sit on the floor and breathe heavily. Mike finishes the whole bottle in one go and crushes it between his fingers.

“I meant to tell you,” he says. “I can’t make it next Wednesday. Harvey and I are going out of town.”

Ethan does something with his lips that’s supposed to be cute and suggestive. Mike just blinks at him.

“Where?” 

“Italy.”

“Oh my god. Wow.”

“Yeah.”

“Aren’t you excited?!” Ethan throws his sweaty hand towel at him. Mike cringes and pushes it off his lap.

“Yes.”

“Really, because you don’t sound the least bit enthusiastic.”

Mike shrugs.

“Alright, Ross. Spit it out.”

Mike takes a final deep breath that finally satisfies his lungs and rubs a hand around the back of his neck to wipe the stinging sweat from his collar rash. “Do you guys often... play, in public?”

“Of course.” Okay. Not exactly surprising.

“Like... everything?”

“Define everything.”

“I mean, aren’t there things Jacob only does with you in private?”

“No, not really. Want some more water.” He stands up and picks the bottles off the floor as he disappears into his tiny fluorescent kitchen.

“Right. Thanks.” His friends are being really fucking unhelpful.

 

 

“Wanna watch porn?” Mike blurts out just as Harvey is passing him from the shower to the bedroom. Mike is sitting on the bathroom chaise, legs crossed, pretending to be enthralled by an article in _Forbes_.

Harvey stops with a towel clutched over one hip. “Come again?” 

“It was just an idea.” He shrugs like it’s no big deal and goes back to reading. Harvey stares at him, completely at a loss for words, hangs up his towel and walks over to give him a hand. 

“Well, I couldn’t possibly pass up such a tempting offer.”

Mike takes his hand, smiles, and is guided to the living room couch. Harvey eyes him mischievously then goes to open the porn drawer - bottom, left side of the entertainment center. Mike has always known about it and often sneaks a peek at the covers to peruse what Harvey’s assorted kinks are. Nothing too wild, honestly, but nevertheless enlightening. 

“Can I pick?” He stands behind Harvey and runs a hand lightly over his hip. He looks over his shoulder and nods. Mike drops to his knees and bends over the neatly organized collection. He runs his finger over the spines as if searching. He doesn’t know exactly where the right one is. The one with the old chipped case that has obviously been opened dozens of times. Harvey kneels beside him and begins running his fingertips down Mike’s tailbone, one finger making lazy circles around the dip in his spine.

He finally pulls it out and lays it face up. Harvey’s hand stops.

“That one?”

“Yeah.”

On the cover is the tantalizing curvature of two well defined Doms sandwiched around a Sub wearing a too short and fraying university t-shirt. 

Harvey squeezes his shoulder and pulls out another. It looks generic. A Sub laying her head demurely on the knee of a proud and erect Dom. “Let’s try this one instead.”

Mike shakes his head. “You said I could pick. I choose this.”

“It’s a little intense.”

“I’ve watched porn before. It’ll be fine.”

Harvey looks it over contemplatively, shrugs, and then goes to pop it into the DVD player.

They settle into the couch together, Mike nestled into the curve of his Dom’s arm. Harvey hands him a bottle of his favorite beer and takes a tumbler of scotch for himself.

“You’ve been looking through my collection, haven’t you?” Harvey whispers teasingly in his ear as the cheesy opening music begins. 

“Are you mad?”

“Only if you watch one without me.” 

Mike nods, pecks him on the lips, and rivets his attention to the screen. 

The film opens with an awkward looking Sub who is undoubtedly hiding a lithe and flawless body under too many layers of baggy clothing. As he arrives for his first day at a nondescript public university carrying one too many moving boxes, he’s tripped by a chortling Dom walking carelessly down the front steps with three gorgeous and adoring Subs on her arm. 

Harvey is barely paying attention and is already massaging Mike’s thigh as he sips his scotch.

The Dom looks over her shoulder as the nameless Sub tumbles painfully to the ground, then immediately turns to help him up. First they smile at each other as the mood music orchestrates their spark of attraction, then she invites him to a party she’s throwing that night at her off-campus apartment. He agrees.

“Bad idea,” Mike says.

“Terrible idea,” Harvey confirms lazily. “But it’s just porn. Don’t worry.” He moves his hand down the inside of Mike’s thigh, teasingly close to his cock.

That night the Sub - Zach - arrives at an apartment buzzing with activity. He knocks and is greeted by a Sub with big fake tits and a female Dom wearing a strap on. Mike looks at Harvey as if to say _really? this stuff cannot possibly turn you on._

“Just wait, it gets better. Besides, you picked it.”

“Conceded.”

Zach smiles awkwardly and tries to turn away until the Dom from earlier - Sarah - pushes her way through the door with an encouraging smile, throws an arm around him, and leads him in through the intimidating crowd. Everyone seems to turn and look at him. Even the Doms already occupied by other willing and beautiful Subs turn to give him a once over.

Someone reaches out and tugs on Zach’s oversized letterman jacket. “Show some skin newbie!”

Before Zach has time to protest Sarah has a hand around the offenders wrist, pushing him away. “Hands off!” she snaps. “He’s mine.” Looking back her expression softens. “Don’t mind them,” she says soothingly, “they’re jerks. Besides, it’s just you and me, really.” Zach smiles and lets her lead him to a couch in a far corner of the cramped living room.

Harvey is sucking and tonguing Mike’s neck, causing Mike’s cock to sit hard against his thigh, reaching for Harvey’s hand on his knee. Mike had expected to learn something from the film, something about what turns Harvey on about public play, but he hadn’t expected to get turned on himself. 

Zach sits down with his hands twisted together in his lap. The camera zooms in as Sarah slides in beside him and whispers, “I’ve been thinking about you all day.”

“Yeah?”

She plays with the buttons of his shirt teasingly. “Been wondering what’s under here.”

Zach smiles awkwardly. “Nothing special,” he stutters. “I’m... pretty ordinary.”

“He’s gorgeous.” Mike says sarcastically. 

Harvey hums against his neck. “Maybe he doesn’t know that yet.”

“Not likely.”

“It’s a fantasy, Mike. Go with it.”

Sarah shakes her head and laughs like he’s the silliest and most naive thing she’s ever seen. “Mind if I take some of these layers off and see for myself?”

Zach gapes like a fish and looks around at the crowd. A camera sweeps around to show that no one is really looking. They’re all busy in their own little groups.

“They’ll think you’re beautiful too,” she says. “If they wanna look.”

Zach nods numbly and without further ado, Sarah starts stripping him down, layer by layer. When he’s in nothing but his jeans she pulls out his incredibly big and perfect dick, licks her lips, and swallows him down as she bends over his lap.

“Fuck, that’s so hot,” Mike moans. Harvey bites down on his neck hard and finally wraps his hand around Mike’s own erection.

As Sarah slowly takes Zach apart, the camera zones out the people around them. They seem to disappear and become nothing but white noise. Mike groans when Harvey replicates the action on screen and bends down over his cock. Mike leans his head against the back of the couch and breathes raggedly.

“Keep watching,” Harvey orders.

When Sarah has finished him, she sits back on her heels and licks at the cum dripping down the corner of her lips. “You taste amazing.”

Suddenly there’s another Dom sitting beside Zach. “Can I have a taste too?”

Zach looks over at him, then back to Sarah. “What do you think?” she asks him. “Rick is great at sucking cock. And even better at licking ass.” Zach, who is, incredibly, already hardening again takes a deep breath and nods.

Somewhere in the back of his mind a part of Mike is protesting, rejecting the idea of a Dom who would say “it’s just us,” and then share so casually with another. But right at this second, with Harvey’s mouth around his cock and the prospect of watching another close up of a Dom’s mouth stretched wide around Zach, Mike doesn’t give a shit. He curses, thrusts up a couple times against Harvey’s slick tongue, and comes.

The rest of the film progresses predictably. Although Sarah stays right at his side, Zach is stripped bare and shared with an increasing number of appreciative Doms, all of whom are awed by his beauty. By the end, they’re in full blown orgy. Mike tries to finish Harvey off with his hand, but Harvey shakes his head. “I want to make love to you later.”

Mike stares at him, breathless. It’s the first time he’s ever used the word _love_ to describe what they do and yet Harvey seems entirely unfazed. Mike gulps.

The final scene is of Zach, weeks later, walking up the same university steps, confident finally in himself and his body. 

Harvey turns off the TV, the lights, and locks the door. The entire time he keeps Mike’s hand clasped in his. When they get to bed Mike wraps his legs around Harvey’s waist as his Dom enters him with slow, rhythmic strokes.

“Harvey?” he whispers.

“Hmm.”

“You would never. I mean,” Harvey thrusts up at his prostrate and he gasps. “If someone asked for me -”

“Of course not. You’re mine.” He thrusts in hard and Mike moans. “No one gets to touch you but me.”

Mike exhales shakily and smiles up at the ceiling as Harvey comes inside him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _I'm terribly sorry about the longer wait this time. I've been trying to buy myself time between posts to work on upcoming chapters, but things are moving slowly no matter what I do. Yikes! Send positive kudos to cure my writer's block!_
> 
> _Thanks again for all the wonderfully supportive comments and encouragement! The next chapter brings us to Italy where the majority of the fic will take place._
> 
> _-poppy_


	5. Chapter 5

The day before they leave for Italy, Louis stops by Mike’s cubicle.

“What is it, Louis?” Mike asks without bothering to look up.

“I heard the good news. Seems both you _and_ your idol will be out from underfoot for a few days. The possibilities are endless.”

Mike shrugs.

Louis wipes a hand over his greasy looking bald spot and smiles toothily. “So where are you lovebirds off to? I never took Harvey as one to play for the home team, but you - well, you are another story all together.”

Mike drops the pen he’d been tapping against his desk and glares at Louis over the cubicle wall. “Are you actually trying to get me to file a sexual harassment case against you Louis, because god help me, I will.”

He puts two hands up and chortles. “Cool off, Mikey.”

“Don’t call me that.”

“I was just fooling around, you know me.” He winks at one of the submissive coffee runners as she passes. “I know you have some dull family obligation.”

“Correct.”

He reaches over and ruffles Mike’s hair before finally walking away. Mike’s skin is tingling unpleasantly as he smoothes his purposeful disarray back into submission.

After packing up for the night Mike has forced himself to forget about Louis and is smiling from ear to ear as he strolls to the elevator.

“You look happy Mr. Ross,” Jessica comments as she appears beside him. “I thought you were visiting an ill family member.”

His smile falters and he coughs. If he didn’t know Jessica better he’d think she looked genuine. “Yeah. No. I am. It’s just that I’ve been looking forward to catching up with some cousins that I haven’t, you know, seen in awhile and -”

She grins knowingly and shakes her head just as the elevator opens. He follows reluctantly. 

“You know Mike,” she says as the elevator passes the 28th floor, “I do not run a high school. You don’t have to lie to the teacher to get time off.”

He gapes at her stupidly. “I wasn’t lying. It’s just that-” _it’s just that I AM lying but your overactive dominance is making it really hard for me to do it well!_

The doors open and Jessica nods at him once before sauntering into the lobby. Mike exhales and knocks his head against the elevator door.

 

 

Harvey packs surprisingly light, Mike learns, for a man obsessed with clothes. He does, however, lie out two pristinely pressed and stunningly expensive suits to be zipped into a garment bag. Mike drops his toothpaste somewhere in the depths of his unorganized case and looks down at Harvey’s selection. He hums.

“I guess I should have something nice too, huh?” He goes over to his side of the closet and stares dispassionately at the row of suits, none of which he was stylish enough to choose for himself. 

“I have that taken care of.”

Mike looks over at Harvey who has walked to the bedroom door. Behind it he now notices another garment bag.

“More suits, Harvey? Is that really necessary?”

“This isn’t just any suit.” His mouth twitches up as Mike comes over and tries to reach for the zipper. “No peeking,” he orders.

“What is it?”

“I had Rene tailor something for you. Don’t worry about it.”

Mike narrows his eyes at Harvey suspiciously but then remembers that Rene doesn’t do the kinky stuff - leather, straps, harnesses, bridles, etc. It can’t really be all that bad.

Harvey grabs his ass shamelessly as they pass back and forth between the bathroom and the suitcases. “Pack your tightest clothes,” he says huskily in his ear. “No need to hide that body under sweatpants and jerseys this weekend.”

 

 

Their flight leaves earlier than Harvey would have ever booked if it were up to him, something Mike is reminded of five times the next morning while they both shuffle around the apartment sleepily, trying to down their third cup of coffee as if tricking their bodies into believing that 3:30am even vaguely resembles morning.

Harvey is too nice, apparently, to ask Ray to do something as crazy-insane as drive them to the airport at quarter after four, so they get a taxi.

“We have first class, though,” Mike says from where he’s resting his head on Harvey’s shoulder. “We can sleep there. The chairs turn into beds.”

Harvey hums.

Mike congratulates himself on being right all along to have booked a 6:30 flight because check-in and customs are pretty much dead apart from the trickle of business travel radicals. They even get early boarding and a free mimosa.

As soon as the stewardess isn’t looking he exits his weird walled-in-seat-compartment and knocks on Harvey’s little door. It slides open. He’s reading a newspaper, legs crossed. 

“You look like a stereotype,” Mike says before plopping down next to him and shoving himself under Harvey’s arm.

“They’ll make you go back for take-off.” His fingers are playing with the hairs at the nape of his neck.

“And after take-off? Mile high club?”

Harvey snorts. “Much less fun than it sounds. All around painful actually.”

“I should have known you’d have already joined.”

“It’s not an actual club, Mike.”

Mike downs his mimosa and looks out through the door in search of the Sub who had walked by not three minutes ago with at least ten more on a tray. When he fails to find anyone he pushes the door button and climbs into Harvey’s lap with a grin. Harvey laughs deeply and strokes his hands appreciatively over Mike’s ass.

“Can we make out then?” he asks. “At least until someone comes and yells at us.”

Harvey pulls his head down with a wide smile. “You’re incorrigible.”

The “thank you” Mike had been planning to come back with is swallowed up by Harvey’s eager mouth.

 

 

“Italy,” Mike announces as they stand before Villa Roissy looking out at the lake, “is fucking beautiful.”

Harvey pulls him into his embrace and kisses his temple. “Yes. As ineloquent as that description was, I have to agree.”

Because of the time difference it’s already early evening and the sun is setting behind the mountains and red rooftops. A bellhop is silently organizing their luggage and garment bags into the hands of at least three additional employees.

Mike follows them with his eyes. “Do they always send out an entire army to greet guests,” Mike asks in a whisper.

“You spent ten thousand dollars for this weekend, they sure as hell better.”

Mike shrugs.

After being bowed and scraped to during the entire check-in process Mike is ready to snap at the first person who continues to get between him and the bed in which he plans to sleep off his jet-lag.

By the time a Dom with a thick accent and one of those ascot things that tuck into your shirt neck opens their suite, Mike is literally ready to punch something. Not only is he tired and weirdly sore from what should have been a luxurious plane ride (probably the result of all the frottage he’d insisted on in Harvey’s seat), but he’s also fed up with people talking only to Harvey and acting like Mike isn’t even here. He paid for fucks sake! And who cares if Harvey’s a regular or whatever, Mike does have the right to be included in room service decisions. He tells Harvey this the second the guy lets them into the room and shuts the door behind him.

Mike is breathing raggedly. “And another thing - why is everyone acting like I’m invisible?!”

Harvey’s lip is twitching with humor. “Mike, turn around.” Harvey takes him by the shoulder and twists. Mike gasps.

The room is stunning. Or rather, the _living_ room is stunning. It’s huge, with plush elegant furnishing, a piano, full bar, and a dining area in front of the floor to ceiling french doors leading out to the terrace. Through an arch to his left Mike can see what must be the biggest king sized bed on the planet towering on a raised platform, surrounded by breezy white linen curtains. Wow.

 

 

After walking around with his mouth hanging open, touching everything in awe, Mike plops down on the white couch and groans. “Why does travel suck so much?” He can hear Harvey pulling the crystal stopper out of a bottle of scotch at the bar.

“You’re just not used to it. When was the last time you left the country?”

Mike snorts. “Never.”

“What?” Harvey exclaims. “This is your first time out of the states and you didn’t think to mention it?” 

Mike shrugs. “No, but I’m happy it’s with you,” he says with a smile.

Harvey sits down beside him with one arm around his shoulder. “Thank you, baby, but you still should have told me.”

“Why? Didn’t matter.”

“It would have mattered to me, _a lot_. Just, assume when it comes to you I want to know everything.”

Mike nods and lets Harvey kiss him until he’s so worked up he’s buzzing with that anxious anticipation of subspace. Just when he’s about to crawl into Harvey’s lap, the lips retreat.

“No,” Mike wines. “I wanna fuck.” Both of their scotches are forgotten on the table and the way the lights over the lake shines in and cut through the darkness is irresistibly romantic. Too bad Mike is feeling decidedly more carnal than romantic.

“I’d like to talk to you.”

“’Bout what?” Mike mumbles while nuzzling his Dom’s neck.

“This place is more than you anticipated.”

“Uhmhmm.”

“You’ve already begun to see it. I just don’t think you understand.”

“’Kay.”

Harvey fists Mike’s hair and pulls him away. His face is flushed, his lips swollen, and his eyes heavily lidded. He looks so fuckable it’s a wonder Harvey is able to keep talking.

“Go take a shower, put something on, and come back here ready to talk.”

Mike groans.

“Do what I say or I’ll make you sleep on the floor.”

His eyes narrow. “Is that a real threat, ‘cause I paid for that bed.”

“Yes, and if you feel the need to mention it again I’ll have the staff downstairs bring a mat up for you to spend the rest of the weekend on. I happen to know they’re rather thin. I could even ask for a cage, if I felt so inclined.”

Mike’s eyebrows shoot up and the pretty pink color of his cheeks pale.

“Say you’re sorry and do as you’re told.”

“I’m sorry, sir,” he whispers.

Harvey nods and points to the bedroom. 

 

 

In the bathroom Mike slumps against the closed door. He feels wretched. Not only is he tired and itching for subspace, but now he’s feeling guilty and as though he’s disappointed Harvey. He wanted this weekend to be perfect and he’s already managed to screw it up, and no more than an hour after arriving. That’s just typical.

He rips off his clothes and kicks them into the corner of the bathroom where they land in a heap that would make Harvey scowl. He stares at the pile grumpily before relenting. He picks them up one by one, folds them, and sets them neatly on the bathroom chaise. Mike then washes his face rigorously with the expensive product provided on the vanity.

As he stands up and looks at his tired eyes in the mirror, the water drips down his neck and under his collar, tickling and irritating the skin underneath. He reaches under it to rub and winces at the sting. Biting his lip, Mike unbuckles the collar and peels it away. It sticks slightly at the back and when he turns to look he can see a bleeding sore.

Fuck. 

Ethan was right. He should have told Harvey about this weeks ago. But then, Harvey had been so frazzled, practically unstable during the Leavitt case. And once they’d gotten through it, after the whipping... well, Mike can’t think of a worse time to let Harvey think he’s been neglecting him. That Mike is hurting in some way.

It’s not even Harvey’s fault! This is Mike’s problem. He let it get this bad and - he fingers the sore and yelps quietly – it’s probably infected. Shit. 

And now? He can’t tell Harvey now. He’ll make him take it off for the weekend. And that - that is the most unacceptable thing imaginable. To be uncollared, away from home, and on thin ice with his Dom. Fuck, fuck, fuck. 

Mike grabs his little bag and digs into an inside pocket where he’d hidden Ethan’s salve. He keeps forgetting to use it. Maybe it’s not too late. 

After treating the area with as much care as he can manage, he cleans the collar and fastens it back on over the wound. If you look carefully you can already see the redness peaking up over and under the buckle, but Harvey is so used to seeing it on him, and his hair has grown enough to cover it. Besides, Harvey doesn’t do that thing he’d done the first few weeks after his collaring. When he’d finger the leather idly, kiss over, under, around it. Even gaze at his neck with pride and unveiled adoration.

No, he doesn’t pay that kind of attention to him anymore.

 

 

Mike can smell the food Harvey must have ordered as he opens the door and walks down the split level stairs and into the living room - barefoot and in one of the big fluffy robes that were hanging on the bathroom door.

Harvey is pouring himself wine. The glass beside it has ice water in it. Mike winces. It’s never a good sign when Harvey starts sobering him up. Mike’s anxiety, however, is diffused when Harvey turns around and smiles at him.

“Come eat.”

The food smells good and Mike’s focus suddenly shifts to his stomach. Harvey pulls out a chair at the dining room table where he sits gratefully and uncovers his dinner. Harvey places the water before him for which Mike thanks him with an embarrassed mumble.

They eat quietly. Every once in a while Mike stops to gaze out the open balcony doors at the glistening lake, the yachts, the distant sound of music playing down the shore. When he can’t stand it anymore he looks up to see Harvey staring at him intently. He drops his gaze again and shovels at a piece of sliced chicken. When there’s nothing left but a pile of capers floating in lemon cream sauce, Mike reluctantly puts his fork down. He’s not sure why he feels so wretched. This trip was supposed to be four days of romantic utopia, full of sex, candle light dinners, pool side cocktails, and the occasional bump and grind at the private clubs. He hadn’t expected to be such a quick disappointment. And besides, who does Harvey think he is to pull the leash so tight that - 

“Mike, come here.”

Mike lifts his head up from his palm and stares.

“Now.”

He stands, wraps his robe up tighter and circles the table. When he gets to Harvey’s chair he almost steps on a pillow he hadn’t noticed sitting to the left of him. As Mike ponders its connotations, Harvey takes his hand.

“Here at Roissy, Subs rarely sit at the table.”

Mike continues to avoid eye contact, suddenly tied up in knots about what this means for him. Is humiliation going to be his punishment? It’s a soft-limit and Harvey doesn’t push his limits as punishment.

“Things are done differently here, Mike. Couples come to indulge in a more…” he strokes another hand under the opening of Mike’s robe and down his hip, “traditional lifestyle.”

Mike tilts his head back and swallows a groan when Harvey cups his ass and squeezes. 

Harvey pulls his hand out and glances down at the pillow. “Kneel for me.”

If Harvey had asked him to do it an hour ago he’d be as indignant as fuck. But right now the suggestion is a relief. He sinks to his knees and buries his face gratefully into Harvey’s thigh. Gentle fingers stroke through Mike’s hair, tugging at the lengthening locks and scratching lightly at his scalp.

“We need to talk about this. I thought of doing it before we left, but I didn’t want to make you unduly anxious.”

Mike tilts his face up, eyes closed, begging for Harvey’s hands on his face. Harvey strokes him gently over his lips and eyes and the soft hollows below his cheeks. Mike blinks his eyes open and frowns.

“I’m sorry.”

“You’re not in trouble.”

“I was. Earlier.”

“No. Not even then. You were taking too many liberties and you needed to know there are consequences here. Just as there are at home.”

“You weren’t serious, were you? About the cage?”

“Roissy offers a diverse range of provisions.”

“So, you’d want something like that? You’d want to put me in a cage? Like a dog.”

Harvey tilts his head. “Tell me what you’d do if I were to demand that of you.”

“I’d safe word out,” Mike says defiantly. “And then I’d _demand_ that you shove your ass in there instead.” For a second Mike is afraid he’s going to get back handed. It’s happened once or twice before when he’s defiantly overstepped his boundaries. Fortunately, Mike wouldn’t really care this time. He’ll speak his mind on the subject if it’s the last thing he does.

But to Mike’s surprise Harvey smiles and lets out a guttural laugh. “Good boy. I’d expect nothing less.” Mike grins and laughs nervously, letting his anxiety out in little breaths of relief. 

Harvey gazes at him and strokes his temples as the humor of the moment dissolves and they both fall back into the serious mood of moments before. Harvey sighs and looks out through the open balcony doors where the evening breeze is blowing in and cooling their flushed skin.

“Come outside with me. I want to enjoy this with you.” He takes him by the hand and leads him outside.

It turns out Roissy really does anticipate everything because the chaise lounges are more than wide enough for two to curl up in together. Mike lays his head against Harvey’s chest and blinks lazily out at the glistening lake.

“Can we just stay here?” Mike says. “I don’t want to go back to New York.”

“We can come here as often as you like. I’m always welcome and we can afford it.”

Mike sighs. “Yes, please.”

He’s just starting to doze off, relaxed by the sound of water slapping against the dock, the smell of Harvey’s after shave, and the seductive warmth of a Dom’s protective arms, when Harvey decides to throw a curve ball at him. Typical.

“I need to talk to you about how we’re going to proceed this weekend,” he says.

“Whaddya mean?” Mike grumbles.

“There are two ways to approach a stay at Roissy. Both are acceptable.” 

Mike groans and props himself up on his elbow. “What’s the approach that includes the most of this?”

Harvey smiles. “I guarantee both options will keep you in my arms.”

Mike shrugs. “Then I don’t care. Proceed as you will,” he says officially. 

“I’m not letting you get out of this conversation just because you want to fuck and sleep.” Harvey pulls on Mike’s arm as he tries to collapse back into his arms. Mike groans pathetically. “You’d think after all this time, you’d have learned your lesson about whining.”

Mike shakes his head. “Sorry. I reserve the right to complain about trivial things. You knew that before you collared me.” 

“No reason to not strive for self-improvement.”

“You’re a kill-joy.”

“You’re a child.”

They smile at each other until Mike manages to look like his attention is focused on his Dom.

“As I’ve been trying to explain, Roissy is not an ordinary retreat.”

Mike nods. “It caters to Doms and Subs hoping to indulge themselves in a semi-public atmosphere with the guarantee of secrecy.”

Harvey nods. “That’s correct, on the surface, but did you think to look into it a little deeper?”

Mike shrugs. “What else is there to know?”

“Quite a lot, actually.”

“Okay.”

“Italy, although it’s become increasingly modernized over the last half a century, still values traditional submissive behavior.”

“Yeah, okay. I knew that. Lots of couples here still have full-time dominance agreements.”

“In addition to secrecy, guests of Roissy commonly come to indulge in those traditional roles.”

Mike frowns. “Are you saying you want me to ask before I can shit and stuff?”

“Don’t be crude. You know that’s not the point.”

“Sorry, I find that kind of dynamic insulting. I didn’t know you were into that.”

Harvey sighs and runs a hand down Mike’s spine. “It’s complicated,” he says quietly, almost to himself. After a few minutes he sighs, releases his grip on Mike and smiles thinly. “Never mind. Forget about it and enjoy the peace and quiet. I’m just happy I’m here with you.”

Mike humphs and lays down again. He tries to shake off his annoyance at being asked to do something that Harvey knows, or _should_ know, is way out of his comfort zone. He’s barely a year into his first relationship with a Dom. Fuck, he’s not even comfortable being a Sub publicly and yet here he is, ready and willing to let this little sphere of people in on his secret. And now what? Harvey wants to strip away his remaining freedom? Even after the doors are shut at night? 

Against his cheek Mike can feel Harvey breathing deeply, the muscles of his chest tensing with each breath. Harvey is frustrated. Angry even, but not angry enough to scold him. That should be enough to settle his mind, but it doesn’t. If there’s one thing Mike has learned over the past few weeks it’s that Harvey shouldn’t be allowed to stew.

“You’re mad,” Mike prompts.

“No. Not at all.”

“Then you’re disappointed.”

“A little. But not at you.” He kisses him on the head and nudges him up. “Bedtime. You’re exhausted.”

Mike mumbles and follows him sluggishly into the living room, past the uncleared dinnerware and up the shallow steps leading to the bed. He tosses his robe on a chair by the window. He can hear Harvey turning out lights, locking doors, and stacking plates. When he comes out of the bathroom a few minutes later with clean, well, _cleaner_ teeth, Harvey is finishing a conversation with someone at reception. Something to do with breakfast. He thinks he hears the word _massage_ mentioned but he doesn’t want to get his hopes up. Mike slides under the otherworldly sheets and moans. 

“Should I be jealous?” Harvey says, appearing beside him.

“Yes.”

He clicks off the last lamp and pulls Mike into his arms. “Then I guess I’ll have to fight the bed for your attentions.”

“Or you could just share my attention _with_ the bed.”

“Amicable solution. Thank you Mr. Ross.”

Mike nods. “Hey. Harvey?”

“Yes.”

“Speaking, you know, hypothetically. What would this traditional submissive _thing_ entail?”

Harvey dips his fingers into Mike hair before answering. “In a sense -” he falters. “In a sense it would entail very little on your part, and a great deal on mine.”

“Are you being intentionally vague?”

“No. I just... I’ve only done this twice before and both times the dynamic was prematurely understood. I guess I’m finding this hard to explain.”

“You want me to submit more,” Mike concludes. “I get that. And... I guess I can play along if you want.”

“Not more, Mike. Completely. And for you, I think complete submission is outside what you’re capable of.” He pats Mike on the thigh. “Let’s forget all about it.”

“What do you mean _not capable?_ Fuck that, I’m totally capable.”

“It’s not a contest.”

Mike pushes his torso up and glares down at Harvey. “I’m not competing! I’m just... I’m just disagreeing with your ridiculous assessment.”

“Noted.” Harvey’s grinning.

“You don’t believe I can do it?”

“I think you can absolutely do it, with proper preparation, but frankly your present attitude convinces me that now is not the best time.”

Mike’s eyes narrow dangerously. “I want to do it.”

“No.”

“I can do what I put my mind to, Harvey.”

“I agree.”

“Tell me what to do and I’ll learn! If you expect me to approach anything new without both doubt and determination, you’ll be constantly disappointed.”

Harvey searches his gaze, looking for something he must not be able to find because after a few moments he exhales.

“If we start this, you have to hand over the reins, Mike. This isn’t a game. This isn’t something you get bored with, sick of, or even embarrassed by. _Total_ submission, Mike. Do you really understand that?”

“No. But I can learn it.”

“It means being uncomfortable without complaining. It means keeping your mouth shut when you want to say something so badly you think you’ll scream.” Mike is about to say again that, yes, he gets it and he can handle it, when Harvey grabs his chin and pushes his jaw closed. “It means accepting punishments for things you’ve never had consequences for before. It will be difficult and frustrating but if it’s done right – it will be very rewarding.”

He slowly lets go of Mike’s chin.

"Think about it and give me your answer in the morning.” Harvey lays back but keeps his arm open for Mike to slide into his embrace. While Harvey falls asleep fast and seemingly carefree, Mike lays awake feeling conflicted and antsy with the adrenaline of righteous indignation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **To all my readers who are also on Tumblr, I want to announce my new blog!** It is under the same name **poppypickford** , and can be found **[HERE](http://poppypickford.tumblr.com/)**. It is a multi-fandom page where I plan to reblog and post fandom related content. It is a significantly easier way to contact me and is where I will be keeping my most updated rec lists. I will also begin announcing chapter updates and new works via the blog. If you feel so inclined, please follow me! I always reciprocate. 
> 
> As always, thanks for reading! You're all wonderful. Each and every one of you ;)
> 
> -poppy


	6. Chapter 6

Morning dawns in Italy earlier than Mike would have expected. Or maybe it’s just that here, as opposed to New York, there are no high-rises buffering the full force of the sun’s power as it shines in through the windows and pierces his eyelids. Mike opens one eye grudgingly and looks across the empty bed. He closes it again. It would be the coward’s way out to just stay in bed and ignore the inevitable, but there are only so many sleepless hours left to him before Harvey will inevitably come in and force the issue. 

Mike sits up and sighs. Glancing around, he finally spots Harvey lounging on the balcony reading a newspaper. Beside him is one of those douchy little espresso cups. Well, they are in Italy. 

Mike rubs at the corner of his eyes as he swings his legs over the side of the bed. He grabs the throw blanket from the foot and bundles up inside it before shuffling across the hotel room.

“They brought you The New York Times?”

Harvey smiles and reaches out for Mike’s hand. He offers it gratefully and laughs when Harvey tosses the paper aside and pulls Mike astride his lap. Underneath the blanket he’s still naked, so when Harvey pulls the edges aside and gazes at him, it make Mike flush pleasantly. There’s something decidedly thrilling about being in an exposed place, but knowing he’s seen only by his Dom. 

“You’re so beautiful, you know that,” Harvey says. His eyes are intense and his expression serious. Mike exhales and his cock swells under Harvey’s gaze. He rubs himself pleadingly against Harvey’s still-clothed cock, expecting to be scolded, but he’s not. Harvey dips his hands under the blanket and holds onto his hips. He squeezes what sparse fat and muscle can found there as he leans in to whisper in Mike’s ear.

“Have you made your decision yet?”

The fine threads of Subspace already coiling around him make the question so much less burdensome to answer.

“Yes, sir. I still want to try it.”

He hums, licks Mike’s neck and pulls him closer to his erection. “Good boy. I’m proud of you.”

Mike smiles against his Dom’s neck.

“Do you understand what will be required of you?”

He shakes his head. “Not specifically, no.”

“Then you have two options. The first is that you may concentrate on the new rules now, and as a reward I will fuck you.”

Mike groans.

“The other is that you may jack off now, while I watch, and then after we will talk.

Mike’s cock is now painfully hard and Harvey knows it. Waiting, exposed and astride his Dom’s lap for _anything_ will be trying. Especially knowing that if he fails to concentrate, he’ll certainly be lose his reward. But, he’s been desperate to have Harvey inside him for days now, and he’s not going to pass up the opportunity.

He growls with frustration upon making his decision and sits back on Harvey’s thighs. “I’ll wait, sir.”

Harvey nods. He’s pleased. When Mike tries to pull the edges of the blankets around him, Harvey stills his hands and smooths them out so that as they speak he has a full view of Mike’s body. He gulps.

“The first thing you must remember is that this is temporary. After we go home, things will return to the way they were. Our rules, my expectations for you, and your understanding of how I will respond will be unchanged, unless you wish to negotiate something new.”

Mike nods, trying desperately to focus on Harvey’s eyes.

“For the next three days, however, I will expect you to understand and obey the following. First, that there is virtually nothing you have assumed permission to do. If I tell you to sit, you sit until I tell you otherwise. It is a test of your submission that you trust me to understand what you need without you asking for it. The only exception to this is if you need something urgently that I could not reasonably predict, such as the bathroom. In response to your crudely put comment from yesterday - no, you do not need to be specific.”

He grins at Mike as his thumb continues to caress his hip.

“The primary rule that you need to concentrate on, because it will be more difficult than you imagine, is that you cannot beg – for anything – and that includes body language as well as words. If it helps to keep your eyes shielded to avoid doing so, you may. The most difficult part of this rule is that it will include the moments we are engaged in a scene. I demand complete trust and submission regardless of your wants and desires. Understood?”

Mike nods.

“You showed me just now that you are willing to sacrifice immediate satisfaction for reward. That was very good.”

Mike smiles.

“Because I know you too well, you need a second rule. No back talk.”

“Obviously.”

Mike smiles at the joke but Harvey isn’t laughing. His lips wilt and he clears his throat. “Okay, I get it. Sorry, sir.”

“I will be respected at all times. This exercise will not work if you allow yourself to snark, and it will fall apart completely if I let you.”

Mike nods.

“If you do anything that I perceive as defying my wishes, commands, or rules, whether they be explicit or implicit. You will be punished. That is non negotiable. If you argue with any of the punishments I give, the punishments you have already incurred will be doubled.”

Mike bites his lip.

“You may ask a question.”

“Can I know how I’ll be punished?”

“You will collect strikes with the paddle for small offenses, but I will not predetermine now how I will punish more severe disobedience.”

Mike thinks about this. Harvey knows that the paddle is hardly his favorite. It’s better than the cane and much less painful than a full scale whipping. However, it is certainly pleasureless enough to be a good deterrent. Mike knew the rules would be difficult, and he knew he couldn’t expect to be perfect at this, but something about the matter of fact tone to Harvey’s voice makes him wonder how much Harvey expects him to fail at this. Probably _a lot._

“Can I ask questions if I don’t understand something you’ve commanded, or, if I don’t understand why I’m being punished.”

“You may. But I advise you to be careful and think about how you word your questions. In the past I have had to forbid questions all together because they almost always broke one of the rules I gave a Sub and resulted in even more severe punishment. I will not be lenient in this area.”

Mike winces internally at the implication of _other_ Subs that Harvey has done this with. But he congratulates himself on hiding it. The tone in Harvey’s voice, the coldness of his speech, gives Mike nervous chills. He’s excited, more so than he thought he would be by the game, but the change in his Dom is undeniably unnerving.

Harvey exhales and drops his eyes from Mike’s worried expression. “If I believe you truly did not see the fault in your question, I will be lenient. But I have to stress the importance of your role in this. You rely too heavily on your three strike rule. I believe... I have believed for a while now that if you stopped to think about your behavior, you would know without my direction what you should and should not do or say.”

“Yes, sir.” He whispers. “So you think I can do it?”

Harvey looks up at him and smiles warmly. “Yes, I do. I think you will struggle, but I have so much faith in you, Mike.”

He puts a hand on Mike’s cheek, which he gratefully leans into.

“Will you -” he wants to say _still love me_ , but the words are far too weighted for this conversation, so he swallows them - “Will you forgive me if I screw up?”

“Of course. I’d forgive you if you safe-worded out the first day.”

Mike smiles and says nothing at all as Harvey runs his hand down his neck. He’s not sure they’ve already begun, but he’s determined to prove to Harvey that he’ll be better at this than expected. As Harvey’s hand runs down his torso and into the springy hairs above his cock, he doesn’t so much as groan or buck. But he does have to bite his tongue when Harvey runs one finger over the leaking head.

Harvey glances up with a grin. “I didn’t say we’d started yet, show off.”

Mike smiles and curses his traitorous cock when it twitches pleadingly against Harvey’s hand.

“I’m practicing, sir.”

“I can see that,” Harvey says before pulling him in with a hand around the neck for a deep searching kiss. Mike wants to wrap his arms around his Dom's neck, pull him in, hump against his touch. He wants to pull Harvey’s hair and bite his tongue. He wants to beg so bad, but he doesn’t.

When Harvey thrusts his tongue between his lips in an imitation of sex, Mike whimpers despite himself, but that must be okay because Harvey seems spurred on by the sound. With one hand he reaches under Mike’s thigh and fingers him dry. The friction is intense but not unpleasant. Even with one long finger inside him he can’t help but want to fuck it, with or without lube.

“You said you want to practice?”

“Yes, sir,” he sighs.

“I’d rather we get started. No time like the present.”

He leans his forehead in the curve of Harvey’s neck and bites his lip to prevent the embarrassing squeak. The dry finger has become two and it’s enough to make him crazy.

“Yes. Sir.”

“Good. Go get on the bed. Hands and knees, ass raised, forehead down. Leave the lube beside you.”

He nods and with shaking legs lifts himself off his Dom’s lap. He realizes too late that Harvey kept hold of the blanket and that he’s standing outside, exposed. He wraps his arms around himself and looks out over the water to at least four yachts floating close to the shore.

 “One strike for hesitating. Go.”

He jolts, bites his lip, and hurries in through the door.

Once Mike has settled himself on the bed, lube sitting neatly beside his knee, he takes a moment to collect himself. He knows why he did it, and it’s not just for Harvey. This, unlike the whipping, is not self-sacrificial. Here, four thousand miles away from New York what would have threatened his security and submissive boundaries seems remarkably... arousing. 

As Harvey lay asleep the previous night Mike’s imagination took over and what had seemed like a stifling contest of will was beginning to show its benefits. He might be losing control over his vacation, but so what? His anal retentive tendencies never made him all that happy before, so who’s to say it’ll do so now? Harvey knows what he needs. He also knows what Mike wants. He knows if he goes along with this, proves himself capable and willing, eager even, Mike has no doubt that at the end of the day he’ll be rewarded with more than he could have ever procured for himself.

Harvey comes up behind him and runs both hands down Mike’s exposed ass. Mike presses back into the touch. Opens his thighs wider.

“Two strikes, Mike,” Harvey whispers huskily.

Mike flinches. Oh yeah, begging.

“There’s a fine line between responsiveness and pushiness. I can tell the difference.”

He doesn’t sound angry, just informative. He digs his fingernails into Mike’s flesh until he can’t help but yelp.

“There. _That_ was a response.”

“Yes, sir.”

Mike can hear the bottle being uncapped and the wet sound of Harvey’s thick fingers warming it before it’s pressed into his hole with three fingers at once. The skin there still remembers the edge of pain he’d endured minutes before when Harvey had fingered him dry. But now the cool slickness soothes him and the sure caressing hand on the small of his back comforts and assures him.

“You’re beautiful like this.” Harvey whispers.

Mike peeks over his shoulder and catches his Dom’s eye. “Thank you.”

Harvey tears his gaze away from Mike and returns it to where his fingers are working steadily in and out of him.

“I want you to hold yourself open for me.”

The thought makes him blush, but he doesn’t question the command. Mike lowers his cheek to the bedspread and turns his head so he can hold his weight up with his shoulders, then reaches behind himself to obey.

Harvey’s voice cracks around a groan. “Fucking perfect. If you could only see yourself.”

His face is red hot with the burn of humiliation and the pleasure of praise. He wants to flip on his back and pull Harvey down over him, urge him on with his lips and the pull of his thighs, but he can’t. He... doesn’t need to.

Hot breath against his hole startles Mike, but the surprise turns into a heady groan of grateful anticipation. Harvey has done this to him once before and never again. They hadn’t even talked about it, but Harvey couldn’t have missed how hard it made Mike come. Harvey licks him from balls to tailbone, making Mike moan pathetically into his pillow and his fingers tremble as they hold himself open for his Dom. Harvey caresses his fingers away and replaces them with his own. Mike grips the sheets gratefully and rides out Harvey’s relentless rimming until he’s coming in thick explosive spurts across the bed. When he’s fallen to his stomach, careless of the wet spot he’s left, Harvey glides into him, thrusts hard half a dozen times, and follows him to completion.

Harvey tumbles onto Mike, one leg and arm still grasping him. Mike has barely caught his breath before Harvey is pulling at his shoulder, flipping him over so they’re chest to chest, and kissing him.

“Perfect,” Harvey says in an awestruck voice. “Perfect.”

He pets and kisses his boneless Sub, repeating the word like a mantra until they’re breathless with the pleasure of each other’s closeness.

 

Mike is rolling a question around in his head as he watches Harvey dress from the bed. He’d been told to think and think again about what he says this weekend, and he intends to do it.

Harvey is sitting on a chair across from him tying a shoe. He’s in a pair of breezy looking grey pants. He looks up and smiles at Mike.

“Do you like doing that to me?” Mike asks quietly, deciding curiosity shouldn’t be against the rules. “Or do you do it because you know I like it.” He knows he’s blushing.

Harvey’s smile grows. “What do you think?”

It sounds rhetorical, so Mike shrugs, smiles, and turns over on his stomach so the sheets slide off his ass.

Harvey throws on a breezy looking linen shirt and buttons it up half way. He slaps Mike on the ass as he passes toward the bathroom. “Today I couldn’t have thought of anything I’d like more.” 

When Harvey comes back with a clean shave and smelling of that minty aftershave Mike loves, Mike is still waiting languidly on the bed for direction. The rule forbidding him his own agency of movement is surprisingly easy to obey. So far. Harvey sits on the bed and pulls at Mike’s hand until he’s straddled over his lap, his ass in his Dom’s palms and Harvey’s lips massaging a spot below his left ear.

“You have to understand something, Mike,” he whispers. “There isn’t anything in the world that I wouldn’t want to do to make you feel good.”

 

Harvey dresses him in a pair of too tight white jeans and a t-shirt that hugs his hips. Never in his life has he felt so obvious as they step out by the pool with Harvey’s arm casually around Mike’s shoulders. His hair is clean and un-styled, left to hang down around his ears and brush the back of his neck where his collar is fastened undisguised. It’s still far too short for a Sub, but there’s no mistaking the obvious delicacy of his figure under these clothes, especially contrasted with Harvey’s natural bulkiness. Mike feels exposed in the worse possible way and is ashamed to find himself more uncomfortable than he ever anticipated walking out into the small scattering of hotel guests. 

Harvey feels the tension in his figure so he pauses in the shadow of a tented area near the outdoor entrance.

“What is it?” He asks.

Mike’s eyebrows knit together with the sudden anxiety of not being able to express his worry correctly. 

Harvey looks out at the half a dozen couples lounging around the pool with a frown. “Is it too soon for this?” He asks.

Mike wants to say ‘yes, yes it is’ and be taken back to the familiar security of his room, which is much like their apartment - safe, discreet, enclosed. Come to think of it, he hasn’t been out in public as a Sub since before he stopped being one! Sure, Harvey and he sometimes escape to clubs on the borders of the city to be free with each other. But even then he lets Mike go looking enough like a Dom that no one would question him if they didn’t watch long and hard enough to observe the way his body curves in the arms of a _real_ Dom.

Harvey runs a hand down his cheek. “You can do this, Mike.” He doesn’t look completely sure of himself, but his words are decisive. Mike chose a weekend that doesn’t include arguing, even questioning, so he just nods and lets Harvey lead him into the sun. He expects every person to look up at him, survey him, judge and disapprove of him, but they don’t. One Dom lays reading something on his kindle while a lovely dark-skinned Sub in a sheer sarong naps against his side with her head resting on his chest. Another Sub watches delighted as her Dom pulls herself out of the pool with lean muscled arms. When she walks over the sub hands her a half finished cocktail and kneels down beside the chair she falls into. Their soft Italian speech is lost on Mike, but he can hear the affection in it.

Mike exhales gratefully when Harvey leads them to a covered cabana tent. They’re unpopular today because of the cool breeze blowing in and the just warm sun that makes not being at the poolside almost unthinkable.

When Harvey has settled down into a chair he points a nervous Mike to the pillow next to him. Mike drops down and exhales gratefully when Harvey runs his fingers through his hair. He pats his thigh and, looking around to reassure himself that no one has noticed them, Mike lays his forehead against his Dom’s leg and just breathes.

“You’re overthinking this,” he says without reproach.

“I know.”

They sit in silence for a while as Mike steadies his nerves and Harvey thinks.

“Was this too much for you?” Harvey asks again. “If you can’t handle being seen with me, Mike, then I need to seriously re-evaluate this weekend.”

Mike looks up at him and then out at the completely unchanged crowd, still entirely absorbed in their own business. 

What had he been thinking? He knew exactly what he was getting into. He’d prepared himself for _scening_ in public and yet here he is panicking over being caught dressed in Sub’s clothes and having a cocktail with his Dom.

“I tend to sometimes run into things head first and without thinking,” Mike says weakly.

Harvey hums and sits back against the lounger.

A waitress with short brunette waves and long legs turns into the tent and asks Harvey for a drink order without once glancing down at Mike. Harvey chats with her charmingly, her English is choppy but sweetly melodic. He’s still stroking Mike’s hair when she turns and walks unhurried to the bar.

“You see,” Harvey says. “No one is looking at you, Mike.”

“No one is noticing me, you mean,” he replies bitterly. “I don’t see how that’s better.”

Harvey pulls his hand away and grunts with annoyance. The loss of contact feels like a slap. “You’re unhappy if they look at you and indignant when they don’t.”

Mike runs a hand up along his knee in apology, but it gets pushed away. 

“If you need to be kept hidden away, Mike, tell me now because I won’t tolerate this attitude.”

The waitress slides back in and deposits two drinks in tall crystal glasses on the cabana table. She smiles, ignoring the tension, as Harvey hands her a wad of colorful Euro bills.

“I don’t want to be hidden away.” Mike says.

“No. That would be a fucking waste.”

When Harvey doesn’t look at him, doesn’t even offer him the drink sitting untouched beside him, Mike slides from his knees to a sit and rests his head on the edge of the chair. Above him he can hear Harvey sipping something sweet smelling and tapping his fingers against the crystal. 

Mike turns his head slightly to peek up at Harvey’s expression without letting the other man know he’s staring, but all he gets is an eyeful of crotch and a half hard erection. He’s never been the kind of Sub who feels like it’s his raison d'être to suck his Dom’s cock on a regular basis. Honestly, Mike won’t deny that he usually gives great head to earn great head, but sometimes, like now, he really just wants to make Harvey come in his mouth. He sighs with frustration and imagines himself in the safety of their beautiful hotel room with the breeze blowing in through the open windows, Mike on his knees between Harvey’s legs, Harvey’s hand resting against his neck and collar. He imagines the approval quivering in his Dom’s touch, the pleasure, the love.

“You’re begging.” Harvey says with finality.

Mike looks up sharply. “No I’m not!”

“Do you think it’s a good idea to argue to with me today, Mike? You’ve ratcheted up six strikes in the last fifteen minutes alone.”

Mike turns his head away grumpily and stares out at the pool where Harvey can’t see his pissed off expression. Fuck him! He hadn’t been begging! He can have independent thoughts for fuck’s sake.

Throwing caution to the wind Mike sits up on his heels and glares. Because, honestly, Mike would prefer a paddle to putting up with this shit.

“I wasn’t begging, Harvey,” he says in a loud whisper. He opens his mouth to scold Harvey again, but before he knows it his Dom has a hand clenched in the fabric of his shirt and is pulling him up awkwardly over his lap until his ear is pressed to his lips. Mike whimpers.

“Don’t add lying to your list of offenses, baby.” He runs his other hand over Mike’s hair like a pet. “You were begging like a cock hungry little slut. I saw you licking your lips for me.” His tone is playful and intentionally dirty, but Mike doesn’t know what to make of the erratic shifts in his temperament. Normally he’d smile and play along. Agree with him, pant and lick his lips, and let Harvey call him filthy names, but this doesn’t feel like a game.

“I’ll forgive you if you tell the truth. Were you or weren’t you thinking about my cock.”

Mike looks up at his Dom with an edge of defiance. “Yes,” he spits. 

“Well then. Perhaps I’ll be generous and let you suck me. What do you say?”

Mike quirks an eyebrow at him. Is he seriously suggesting... Mike gulps. Knowing that he only has two options, Mike steels his expression tightly while he thinks.

He can go along with it. Do what his Dom has asked of him and blow him several feet from anyone who cares to watch or even join them in the tent as the waitress had done so casually moments before. Or he can safe word out.

Mike glances down at Harvey’s now fully erect cock and, despite himself, feels a flutter of excitement.

“Yes, please.”

Harvey sinks back into his chair with a grin, as if the tension of Mike’s decision is leaking from his own frame. “Good boy.”

He runs a hand around the back of Mike’s head and lets it rest there, encouraging but not demanding, anticipatory, but not pushy. This is all up to Mike.

Licking his lips Mike blocks out the conversations drifting around him, the splash of water, even the footsteps of a waiter as he passes close to their tent. He reaches up, releases Harvey’s cock, big and red with need, and lets it drop down against his shirt.

The position they're in is far more exposed for Harvey than for him, he realizes, but it doesn’t diffuse his anxiety. Refusing to think any more about it, he dives, swallowing his Dom’s length deeply. Harvey’s moan cracks in delighted surprise.

 

Mike is laying beside Harvey on the lounger with his head tucked under his chin. He’s looking out at the other guests, not one of them seeming distracted by the show he’d just performed - and quite well too.

Harvey’s still breathing heavily as he tips his chin back and kisses him. He runs a hand down his belly and grips his half hard cock.

“I’m disappointed. I thought I made you harder than _this_.”

“Performance anxiety,” Mike says.

“Give me a break. You know you give amazing head. I’ve trained you well. To my exact specifications, in fact.”

Mike doesn’t say _“you know what I mean”_ , or even _“when’d you get so fucking cocky?”_. Instead he just offers his mouth up for another long kiss.

“They weren’t watching you, Mike. No one even noticed.”

Mike narrows his eyes.

“Trust me. When I want you to be noticed, you’ll know it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Thanks to everyone who joined me over on Tumblr! I was pleasantly shocked, actually, at how many of you are willing to let me invade your dashboards!_
> 
> _Hope you enjoyed the chapter. There might be a slightly longer wait on the next one as I'm still working on it with my wonderful betas._
> 
> _-Poppy_


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _**WARNING:** This chapter contains dub-con and some misuse of safe-words. After reading, please take a moment to read the end notes for information on the responsible use of safe-words. This chapter contains material that some readers might find troubling and or triggery. The end-notes do, however, contain spoilers, so please use your own judgment when choosing to read it._

After an in-room couples massage Mike lays languid and stupidly happy on their bed staring at Harvey’s ass as he dries from the shower. Harvey unzips a garment bag hanging beside the mirror to reveal a cool colored suit.

“Shake out my shirt for me, please.”

Mike rolls wordlessly off the bed and saunters, arms stretching over his head as he goes. He carefully pulls out the most appropriate of Harvey’s pressed and folded dress shirts, shakes it, unbuttons it, and holds it up behind his Dom. Harvey looks amusedly at Mike in the reflection of the mirror. Even though he’s still bare assed naked and usually likes to be fully zipped into his pants first, Harvey lets Mike help him into the shirt, and even turns to present him the opportunity to fasten each tiny white button with careful fingers.

“What a good boy you are,” Harvey whispers when Mike finishes. He runs a hand along his naked back.

“You keep saying that.”

“That’s because it’s true.”

“May I ask - how many strikes I have now?”

Harvey’s lips thin. “No, you may not ask because you’re not really curious. You’re trying to make a point.”

Mike exhales, leans his forehead against Harvey’s chest, and kisses him lightly above the nipple. “Sorry.”

“You’ll always be my good boy.” Harvey tips up his chin and kisses him. From beneath the edges of his shirt, Mike can feel Harvey’s cock nudging him. He presses in.

“No,” Harvey corrects. Mike steps back. With one hand still on his back, Harvey says “We need to get ready for dinner.”

Mike nods and helps him into the rest of his clothes. When he’s on his knees tying the last shoelace, Mike is still entirely naked and starting to wonder when he’ll be allowed to find something for himself to wear. The thought that he might not be able to wear anything crosses his mind and makes him shiver with fear. There’s no way Harvey would do that to him. Would he?

Starting to feel genuinely sick, Mike sits back on his heels, swallows sour spit, and looks up at his Dom. Harvey runs fingers through his hair. “You’re going to look stunning tonight.”

Mike gulps.  

“You don’t believe me?” Harvey stands and, removing his own garment bag from the hook, reveals another behind it. Mike exhales. “I was going to save it, but, this is our first night here and I want you to make a good impression.” He winks and Mike blushes.

Unzipping the bag and pushing it gently off the hanger, Harvey reveals with a grin bordering on elated, a remarkable and more than likely cripplingly expensive Sub’s suit... well, crippling to anyone but Harvey.

The light grey fabric glistens and, from where he’s kneeling, Mike can smell the richness of the silk. Where his Dom suits are fitted but loose in the thigh, this is skintight. Where Harvey’s suits are broad in the shoulder and thick over his chest, this suit dips down over his gently sloping shoulders, and lays open to reveal the delicate frame beneath. Harvey is fingering the jeweled buttons, inlaid with little black stones to accentuate Mike’s collar. He removes the shirt beneath and presents it. Mike gasps in surprise. It dips low in the neck and will end just below the collarbone. While most shirts are made of fine, but no less modest cotton, what Rene has tailored for him is nearly translucent. Even through both layers Mike can see every detail of Harvey’s displaying hand beneath.

“What do you think?”

“It’s beautiful.”

“It won’t know it’s full potential until you’re in it.”

Mike blushes, but let’s himself be dressed - an agreeable repayment for Mike’s service to his Dom only minutes before. To his surprise, Harvey doesn’t bring him a pair of boxers. He just pulls the pants over Mike’s bare cock. The zipper, Mike discovers, is on the side over his hip.

“To show off this,” Harvey explains with a stroking hand between his legs. Mike groans.

The shirt flutters down over his chest and lands just above his hips. When the jacket is added the finished product is, Mike has to admit, intoxicating. He’s smiling shyly at his reflection.

“I told you. A masterpiece.”

Mike turns and looks at his tight round ass peeking out from under the high suit hem. Unlike his Dom suits that keep him covered, this is complimentary in all the right places and doesn’t require any artificial padding. And the best thing of all is that Harvey is looking at him with more lust than he has ever received clothed.

“I was worried you were gonna take me out naked or something,” Mike jokes. He looks over his shoulder with a smile.

Harvey snorts, pats him on the ass hard enough to make him stumble and says, “No, you’re not ready for that yet.”

Mike’s smile drops and his face flushes cold as he watches his Dom walk away to start gathering their things for the evening.

Shit.

 

 

When a seating host guides them to a table with one chair, Mike isn’t surprised. Granted, he’d hoped he would be, pleasantly so, but it seems luck is not with him.

The rest of the dining room is filled with Doms and their Subs in similar positions. Although there are three or four exceptions, mostly older couples who both enjoy chairs at their table, the rest are all in various states of submission on the floor. Most sit on their heels and wait with attention for their Dom to feed them, but some are more complicated. Mike spots a Sub, naked except for a pair of small shorts and collar, standing behind his Dom, attentively waiting to refill his glass, adjust his fork, even meet the wait staff before they approach the table to take over the serving rights. In a dark and somewhat discreet corner of the room, Harvey points out a young woman, naked and hog tied. She’s kneeling with her chest tied tight to her knees, her ass forced close to her heels, and her hands wrapped together behind her back.

“Why?” Mike asks.

“Probably a punishment. Possibly a game. It’s not our business to inquire.”

Mike nods and turns away just after seeing the girl’s Dom measure out a handful of carefully diced food, run a hand softly over the back of her head, and bend down to let her eat from his palm.

Mike kneels on his pillow, knowing enough about clothes now to recognize that his suit fabric wouldn’t wrinkle if he shoved it in a gym bag overnight. Mike shifts and fidgets, looking around at the other Subs, now at eye level, trying to feel reassured by their shared position.

“Relax, baby,” Harvey soothes. “You’re doing great.”

He exhales and rolls his shoulders in an attempt unwind. It reminds him of the soothing back rubs Harvey gives him when he’s too tied up in knots after work to go under. 

When he’s finally sunken enough into the position he rests his head against Harvey’s thigh, grateful that he isn’t pushed away.

Harvey orders food for them and he doesn’t even bother to perk up and listen to what he chooses. No sooner does the waitress leave than another arrives to hand him a copy of the New York Times. Mike is vaguely indignant when Harvey takes his hand away from Mike to pick up the paper. He props his chin on Harvey’s thigh and frowns. Who reads a newspaper at dinner? And not just any dinner. It’s a meal that will probably cost them _each_ something in the triple digits. When Harvey takes no more notice of him he gives up and goes back to resting his eyes with his cheek pressed to Harvey’s thigh. From this position, Mike is spared the indignity of facing the dining room - a luxury many Subs are not allowed. Harvey is seated against a wall looking out at the other couples while Mike is kneeling with his back turned. If he looks to his right he can see a Sub reaching up to nibble a piece of something crisp and green from her Dom’s fingers, then, before even swallowing, sucking the fingers into her mouth and humming.

“Keep your eyes on me,” Harvey says without looking away from his paper. “You’ll have plenty of time later to watch.”

Mike does as he’s told, grateful to be given instruction.

While eating something that seems designed to be finger fed, Mike decides to try the trick he’d observed on Harvey. Harvey sucks in a breath of surprise and pulls his fingers away.

Mike grins.

“No initiation, Mike,” Harvey says calmly. Mike’s expression doesn’t flicker. “You know better. One strike.”

He pouts a little while he continues to eat, but counts it as a win when Harvey runs a thumb along his lip to clean up the chocolate he’d dripped there, then pushes his finger in between Mike’s lips. He tries not to look smug when his suction goes unpunished.

As they walk out of the dining room together, Mike finally relaxed in the circle of his Dom’s arms, Harvey’s steps falter. He takes two big strides back and peers with furrowed brow at the elevator.

Mike frowns. “Someone you know?”

Harvey grabs his hand and squeezes. “No. No, I don’t think so. Come on.”

 

 

They end up in what Harvey assures him is the tamest club at Roissy - a cocktail lounge where smooth jazz plays in the background and most everyone is relaxing casually on the couches surrounding the room. Doms chat with Doms while their Subs carry on their own whispered conversations at their feet, or even on the seats beside them. Mike’s breath catches when he spots a pretty but aging Sub lying naked along the couch with her feet held in a Dom’s hands. Another Dom comes over with three drinks, which he distributes before taking his own and sitting with her head on his thigh. 

“What’ll you have?” Harvey asks. Mike looks up at him, startled. He hasn’t been given many choices lately and the sudden reintroduction frazzles him.

“Uhm,” he mutters while looking around at the rows of expensive and foreign looking liquors. 

Harvey shakes his head absently and pats Mike’s ass companionably. “Never mind. I know what you’ll like.”

Mike smiles a thank you and waits patiently until he’s led to a dark corner at the back of the club where several couches face the wall. Harvey sits down without releasing his hand. Mike looks down at the floor expecting to see a pillow. When there isn’t one he turns to join his Dom on the couch, but before he has time to even crouch, Harvey is clicking his tongue.

“Straddle me.” He orders.

Mike gulps. As he looks up and scans the room behind Harvey, chills run down his spine. Unlike at dinner, this reverses their positions making Harvey the one allowed some anonymity, while Mike is forced to confront the daunting room of strangers.

Harvey runs his hand up Mike’s thigh. “You can do it. Just pretend we’re home. I won’t make you look anywhere but at me.”

Mike lets out a shaky breath and does as he’s told, crawling, inch-by-inch, over Harvey’s lap until he’s settled back on his knees. Harvey wraps his hands around to support his ass, and then leans in to press a kiss to his jaw.

“See. That wasn’t so hard.”

“No, sir,” Mike murmurs.

“And I won’t even punish you for that disobedience. You’re ass will be sore enough tonight and I’m feeling generous.”

“Thank you.” Mike says.

“But tomorrow will be different. Any hesitation like I’ve been allowing today and I’ll give you three strikes.”

“Yes, sir,” he says, already distracted by a naked Sub walking past him with a leash hanging down the small of her back and swinging above her ass.

“Over my knee,” Harvey continues, placing a finger under Mike’s chin to recapture his attention, “and right where we are. I don’t care how many people there are. You obey me, or you lose the privilege of being disciplined in private.”

Mike squirms. “No, please.” His cheeks are growing red hot.

“Hey,” Harvey says reassuringly. “None of that. Consequences aren’t meant to be fun. But they can be avoided. You know this.”

Mike should say something in the affirmative, but he doesn’t. He just stares at Harvey, fear stricken. He can’t hesitate? What the fuck? Harvey tosses him into this thing and expects him to not need to process? Mike turns his face away and breathes through his nose.

“Do you need your safe-word?”

Mike thinks about this. If he agrees to not hesitate, he’ll almost certainly fail. No, he’ll definitely fail. This isn’t something Mike can do and he knows it. And while being spanked is hardly the worst thing Harvey could threaten him with, a public spanking definitely is. Mike doesn’t do humiliation. It’s a hard limit, and Harvey should know that. Shouldn’t he? 

But then again, if he uses his safe-word now, things will be tense and weird. And Mike doesn’t want that either.

“I want to negotiate.”

Harvey raises an eyebrow. “Do you now?”

“Yes, sir.”

Harvey’s eyes narrow as Mike fidgets. “I was thinking, maybe,” Mike starts.

“No. You don’t get to negotiate. I shouldn’t even be giving you options, but I will. Like I said - generous.” Harvey looks back over his shoulder at the now thinning crowd of guests, then down the room at two more couches, all occupied by similarly distracted couples. “Here’s your option, Mike, so think carefully. It has to be one or the other.”

Mike nods.

“You can accept my new rule as I’ve asked you to do.” His eyes are as chilly and serious. “Or you can ride my cock. Right here, right now.”

Mike goes cold. His pulse thuds in his neck and he feels faint.

“No, please,” Mike whispers. He looks around at the dozens of people, all of which are within viewing range. Should they desire they could watch every moment of it. “Don’t make me choose.” He chews on his lip until it’s sore. “I can’t Harvey, I can’t.”

Just when he feels he’s about to have a real, honest to goodness panic attack, Harvey’s hands are suddenly on either side of his face, holding him steady. 

“Look at me, Mike,” he says. “Look at me.” He rubs his thumbs soothingly over Mike’s cheekbones and hums reassuringly. “It’s okay. Take deep breaths for me.”

Mike sucks in air, holds it, and then lets it out shakily. His mind begins to clear but he’s still grateful when his forehead is guided to Harvey’s shoulder. They sit there gripping each other, not saying anything about Mike’s embarrassing little attack. As his breathing begins to normalize Mike glances up from Harvey’s shoulder. At the other end of the room a woman - a Sub - stands against the wall grinning at him. He sits up fully.

“What is it?” Harvey asks.

Mike looks down at his Dom’s concerned expression and then back to the far wall, but she’s already gone. 

“Nothing. There was...”

Harvey turns and looks over his shoulder. “There was what?”

Now that Mike thinks about it he can’t barely remember her, and so what if she was staring at him? Isn’t that what the bar is for? For couples to enjoy each other and the sights and sounds of others doing the same? And if her smile gave him chills it was only because of too much oxygen rushing back to his brain. He’d read something about that once.

“Mike, tell me,” Harvey demands evenly.

“I thought someone was watching at me,” he says.

The tension in Harvey’s frame relaxes. “Well of course they were. You’re gorgeous.” He runs a thumb back and forth over Mike’s bottom lip until he opens to the coaxing and takes it gladly over his tongue.

“You sucked me beautifully today,” Harvey said. “It’s almost worth a reward.”

Mike’s eyes glisten as he stares at his Dom in anticipation.

“Almost,” he concludes. “You haven’t quite earned it yet.”

Mike bucks up against Harvey’s hard clothed cock.

“Make your decision, Mike, and I’ll tell you what you’ve earned.”

His stomach sinks. He practically spits the fingers out from between his lips.

“Harvey -” he pleads. “Please. Just... take me to our room and I’ll do anything you want. Anything.”

Harvey shakes his head. “I know you’ll give me anything I ask in private. I’m asking what you’d be willing to give me in public, and I’m getting impatient.”

Mike refuses to get worked up again despite the growing heat flushing his cheeks. When he doesn’t say anything for several minutes Harvey’s eyes blink and a hint of something like terror crosses his expression.

“If,” he swallows, “if you need to use your safe-word, now’s the time -”

“I’ll ride you,” Mike says before the rest of the idea can tarnish the moment.

Harvey exhales, smiles, and sinks back into the couch. “Good boy.”

When Mike leans in, begging for a kiss, Harvey misses the pushiness entirely and indulges him with warm nuzzles to his cheeks and the corner of his mouth.

“Do you want to know what you’ve earned?” Harvey whispers.

Mike nods.

“After I’ve beaten that ass of yours red, I’ll lay you out, tie you up spread eagle and rim you until you beg me to stop.”

Mike’s mouth falls open as he breathes deeply around his arousal. Harvey nuzzles up his neck and bites down firmly on his ear.

“What do you say?”

Mike licks his lips and pants. “I’d never beg you to stop.”

Harvey’s lips twitch up. “I was expecting a simple ‘thank you, sir’, but I’ll take flattery over gratitude, just this once.”

Mike closes his eyes and enjoys Harvey’s affectionate attention. It’s not that Harvey isn’t usually affectionate. He is. It’s just that lately, with all the uncertainty in their lives, he seems to have become increasingly neglectful of Mike’s need to be held more than he’s fucked. Subspace is great, but it’s the sense of safety he feels when in his Dom’s arms that really gets him through the week.

Pliant from the closeness and scent of his Dom, from the hot ghost of fragrant breath across his face, Mike is unsurprised to find Harvey’s hand snake between them to unzip his pants and pull his own cock free. Mike leans his forehead against Harvey’s shoulder and watches as it emerges proudly between them where only he can see. Mike takes it in hand and strokes. He’s slower than usual, more methodical. If Mike has to do this he want to encourage the slow, quiet coupling they used to enjoy. The kind that’s just for closeness and as a reminder of their bond and their... affection.

Harvey tilts his head back and groans low. Mike leans forward to kiss the strong exposed neck affectionately.

“Pants off,” Harvey croaks out.

Swallowing around the nervous lump in his throat Mike carefully climbs off Harvey’s lap and stands before him. Mike knows he can do this. In theory all he needs to do is get from point A to point B without letting himself dwell on where he is and what he’s doing. He focuses on Harvey’s half-lidded eyes as he unzips the tight fastener of the sub suit. He lets everything behind Harvey blur away and the sounds of people talking and laughing silence into white noise as he pushes the pants down his hips and over his uncovered cock. He toes off his shoes and steps out with one final resigned exhale. Harvey sits forward a little, his expression unreadable through the fog of lust, and puts both hands on Mike’s hips. He rubs his thumbs into the dimples on either side of his groin and then caresses down and over his ass.

With a little encouraging pull Mike positions himself over Harvey again and waits patiently while he’s checked with little probing fingertips for adequate lubrication. He’s hardly dry, but it’ll still burn more than usual, and that’s fine. Mike told Harvey months ago that a little pain once in a while can be it’s own kind of pleasure.

Harvey reaches between them while leaning forward to whisper in Mike’s ear, “Now, baby. Ride me good. I want to see you get that reward tonight.” He bites down gently on Mike’s ear for good measure before relaxing against the couch, arms outstretched. As Mike begins to rise and lower himself, Harvey exhales. Mike focuses intently on the mole above Harvey’s eyebrow, bites his lip, and zones out. At some point Harvey reaches for his tumbler of scotch, takes a sip, and kisses the flavor and subtle burn into Mike’s mouth. 

After a few minutes Mike realizes that Harvey is far too relaxed and far too content, and will want to enjoy Mike’s slow ride for as long as he’s able - which can be a _long_ time. So he changes tactics. Sure, it might draw some more attention, but right now all Mike can think about is getting zipped up again so he can get the fuck out of this room.

Mike begins bouncing enthusiastically. 

“Fuck.” Harvey moves his hands back down to Mike’s hips and pushes him down firmly onto his cock every time Mike thrusts. The sensation is intense - even a little too intense. He’s still sore from earlier and what little lubrication he’d had is drying up.

Biting his lip in what is beginning to feel more like pain than pleasure, Mike decides to wrap things up once and for all. Without missing a beat Mike pauses mid bounce, just as Harvey was thrusting up to meet him. When Harvey realizes he’s stopped he doesn’t waste a second. He digs his fingers in hard and fucks up into him with hard, sloppy jerks. It’s less than thirty seconds before Harvey is coming with a grunt.

When he’s done his muscles relax and his face evens out in post-orgasmic contentment. Mike blinks a couple of times and then shifts his gaze down from the mole to his Dom’s eyes.

“Wow,” Harvey whispers.

Mike grins and kneels up, letting Harvey slip free, then settles back against Harvey’s knees.

As Harvey rubs idle hands up and down Mike’s thigh, his eyebrows suddenly knit. “You didn’t come.”

“No, sir.”

Harvey looks troubled. This rarely happens. In fact, it might be the first time. Mike is incredibly responsive to Harvey’s touch. Always has been.

“Nerves?” Harvey asks, his expression worried.

“I guess.”

Harvey sighs. “We’re going to have to get you used to this, Mike.”

Mike pales. He thought Harvey would get the memo. He really did. “Yes, sir.”

“Well, let’s get you dressed.” Mike steps off and stands obediently as Harvey holds the pants for him to step into. Once they’re zipped up Mike sits on the couch and puts on his shoes. He slips under Harvey’s waiting arm to be lead from the room. He braves a quick glance around. No one seems to have noticed him, and if they did they’re politely averting their gaze. Just as they pass through the doorway he hears a catcall behind him. Whether or not it’s for him is not something he needs to dwell on.

 

 

After a shower Mike is standing in front of their bedroom mirror toweling off his hair.

“Come sit here,” Harvey says from the living room. Mike hangs the towel on a hook and obeys. He plops into the white leather chair and grimaces at the slightly unpleasant sensation of damp skin on leather.

Harvey runs fingers through his hair as he passes. He’s fiddling with his phone.

“This new phone has shit reception. For fuck’s sake, I spend enough. I should be able to depend on global connection.” He holds it up closer to the sky like that’s going to work.

Suddenly there’s a polite knock on the door. 

“Come in,” Harvey shouts. Mike pushes himself up out of the chair, startled, but Harvey presses him down again.

A pair of bellboys cart in a wheeling tray.

Mike crosses his legs self consciously, but Harvey clicks his tongue before Mike can get one knee over the other. 

They take their time arranging what looks like an elaborate dessert spread, communicating quietly in Italian. They’re no more than five feet from where Mike is sitting. All the while, he stares at his exposed cock, hot with embarrassment.

After an unreasonable amount of fussing and fussing again, they bow to Harvey and leave.

“You paid them to do that,” Mike accuses.

“I paid to have them bring you chocolate torte and gelato.” He’s smiling as he dips his finger into the center of a perfect sphere of coffee colored ice cream. Harvey cuts off a piece of cake and leans over to feed it to Mike. He chews without looking up.

“Do I need to tell you that the tone you just used was unacceptable, or did you know that before you spoke?” He’s cutting off little bits of chocolate and licking it from the fork.

“Did you realize I was sick and tired of being stared at for the evening? Or were you just trying to test me?”

“If you’re trying to get a rise out of me, Mike, it’s working.”

Mike’s eyes are blazing. “Well if you’re trying to train me to be Ethan, you’re failing.”

Harvey’s lips thin and the fork in his hand drops to the tray with a clank.

“Get up.” He takes Mike by the upper arm and lifts. Mike stares at him defiantly. “Over the arm.”

Mike twists out of Harvey’s grip and walks around the side of the couch where he lays himself down, ass over the raised couch arm, feet spread, cheek pressed into the cushions. He continues to glare at Harvey.

Harvey must have been planning to do this here because he only has to walk to the bar to find the paddle. It’s relatively wide and thin and made of a slick high quality wood. Something Harvey must have requested from the hotel. The thought makes Mike blush despite himself.

Harvey strides over, then pauses where Mike is looking up at him with a hard, defiant expression.

“How many strikes have you earned?”

Normally Mike would be squirming, desperate to get on with things so he can remove himself from the awkward, exposed position.

“Nine,” he says. “That I know of. I’m sure your count is higher.”

Harvey nods and starts moving behind him.

“I don’t know why you ask,” Mike says, eyes following him. “You’ll double it anyway.”

Harvey’s jaw clenches so tightly the veins in his neck bulge. Mike gulps and turns his head the other direction. He doesn’t want to see how white knuckled Harvey’s grip has become. He’s not scared of him, not really. Just pissed. Pissed that Harvey made him do something when he knew Mike was two breaths from his safe-word. He made it through and is proud of himself for it, but shouldn’t have Harvey noticed how unprepared he was? And then with the waiters… Mike thought he was safe. Home.

Mike jumps when a hand settles on his lower back instead of the paddle. Harvey’s nails dig briefly into his skin before relaxing. Mike looks over his shoulder.

Harvey is leaning against him, head down, arm loose at his side with the paddle slipping from his fingers.

“Harvey?”

When Harvey doesn’t respond for several long moments, Mike pushes himself up on his elbows and turns to look back at him with concern. “Harvey, can you just get it over with? I’m fine. Seriously.”

Harvey sucks in a breath as if snapped out of a trance, and then takes a big step back. His jaw is still tight and his face is flushed. He looks over Mike as if he’s not there, then turns and walks toward the bedroom. Mike pushes himself to a stand.

When Harvey passes the bar he tosses the paddle on the ledge where it slides to a stop, just barely falling off the edge.

“Harvey!”

“I’m too angry with you,” he says as he climbs the few stairs and starts peeling off his suit jacket. “It’s irresponsible for me to handle a paddle right now.”

Mike wraps his arms around himself to fend off a sudden chill. He starts to approach Harvey, but by the time he’s in the bedroom he has disappeared into the bathroom.

Mike waits on the bed, feeling wretched. When Harvey emerges in a towel, Mike stands.

“Harvey,” he says with remorse. “Harvey, I’m really sor -”

“Not now.” He rips off the towel from around his waist and throws it back through the open bathroom door.

Mike doesn’t know what to say. He’s never made Harvey this mad before and he’s done far worse. Harvey usually looks at him with disappointment and carries out a punishment with calculated efficiency and care. This bottled up rage scares him.

“I’m sorry,” Mike whispers feeling tears well up behind his eyes. He’s not even that sorry. He just wants his Dom back. He just wants Harvey to look at him, for god’s sake!

“Go to bed, Mike.” Harvey shouts from the living room where he’s cleaning up a pool of melted ice cream.

Mike stands there next to the bed, wishing he could turn back time and just shut his fucking mouth, take the punishment and reward, and go to bed with his Dom’s arms around him. He hasn’t slept alone in months.

When he realizes nothing he says or does is going to fix this, Mike pulls back the covers, climbs in, and buries his burning face in the sheets.

 

 

After lying awake blinking back tears and chastising himself for being such a fucking crybaby, Mike gives up trying to sleep, throws back the covers and stands. Down in the dark living room he can hear Harvey snoring softly from the couch.

Mike grabs a pillow and the throw off the end of the bed, and then walks down to stand next to him. He has one arm over his face and looks as though at some point before he fell asleep, he’d been troubled.

Mike lays the pillow on the floor below him and lowers himself down. He’s usually awake before Harvey so he’ll slip away and be back in bed before Harvey gets his morning coffee. And even if he’s not, Harvey can’t get any angrier than he is now.

Within a few minutes, he’s asleep.

 

 

Mike is kicked awake. He sits up too fast and bumps his shoulder on the underside of the coffee table. He grabs it and tries to squeeze out the pain.

“Mike?”

He groans. It’s still dark out. Really dark. No more than an hour or two must have passed.

“What are you doing on the floor?” 

“I couldn’t sleep.”

Harvey swings both feet off the couch and Mike can hear him rubbing the stubble on his cheeks.

“And you thought the floor would be better?” 

“Yeah.”

“Because?”

Mike must sound pathetic when he says, “Because it’s closer to you.”

Mike can’t bear to look up at Harvey, too embarrassed at being found curled up like a scared kid. Harvey makes a noise Mike can’t interpret, then stands and begins walking toward the bedroom. Mike thinks he’s going to the bed, abandoning Mike to be alone once again on the couch when he says, “I’ll be right back.”

Mike can hear the toilet flush and the light from the bathroom illuminate the hotel suite briefly before it’s switched off. When Harvey returns he’s dragging the massive white comforter from the bed. He lies back on the couch and offers a hand to Mike.

“Come on, then.”

“Really?”

“You’re not sleeping on the floor.”

Mike doesn’t have to be told twice. He crawls into the narrow space beside Harvey and finds he has to lay half on top of him to fit. Harvey pulls him in with one arm.

He doesn’t kiss Mike, pet him, or even brush his fingertips over his skin as Mike has gotten so used to. His touch is perfunctory and protective, but no less delicious.

They lay there in silence.

“I’m really really sorry, Harvey.” Mike says finally because he doesn’t know what else to do.

Harvey doesn’t respond. The grip around his waist tightens and then relaxes.

“You’ll receive a punishment in the morning. Apologize after that and you’ll be forgiven.”

The tears start threatening again, but Mike sniffs them back and nods. “Yeah, okay.”

Harvey grunts then pulls the big heavy comforter higher up around Mike’s neck.

“Why are you doing this?” Mike asks.

“You’re punished when you misbehave or are willfully disrespectful. You know that. You want me to forgive you? Well I can’t do that until you’ve accepted responsibility for your actions through punishment.”

Mike nods. “No, I know that. I meant... why are you letting me sleep with you?”

This is apparently a much more difficult thing to explain because Harvey is silent for a while, his adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows repetitively.

“Because I was breaking my own rule to not close doors on each other in anger, and because I once promised you that I would never again use touch deprivation as punishment. I forgot.”

Whatever determination Mike had left for keeping tears at bay starts dissolving.

“Even when I’m furious with you, Mike, I’ll always make sure you’re cared for.”

Mike hiccups embarrassingly and starts crying in earnest. Whether from pent up emotions or relief, he’s not sure. He’s just glad he has Harvey’s shoulder to cry into. Harvey pulls him in even tighter, almost too tight to breathe, and starts rubbing his hand up and down his back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> __**A note on safe-words and safe-play:**  
>  As I hope many of you have inferred, this chapter does NOT represent a responsible use of safe-words and safe-play. Interactions in this chapter are a purposeful representation of problems in Harvey and Mike's relationship, as well as individual immaturity and insecurity. Additionally, it reflects intricacies in the AU that may not translate into real world BDSM relationships and interactions. This will be expanded on later in the fic, but if you have questions feel free to contact me.
> 
>  
> 
> _  
> **When experimenting or playing in your personal life, please remember that safe-words are an important aspect of a responsible BDSM relationship. The use of a safe-word should NEVER be met with guilt and/or shamming. There is no right or wrong time to use a safe-word. If you feel at all uncomfortable with something that's happening in a scene, use your safe-word!**  
> _


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Hey everyone! I have a couple fairly important announcements and comments that you can find in the end notes._
> 
> _Thanks, and enjoy!_

Mike is laying face down on the bed with his legs over the edge and his ass raised up with a pillow. Harvey barely gave him time to pee and wash the sleep from his eyes before he was arranging him here for his punishment. When Mike sat up, finally rested from what would have been a sleepless night, Harvey was completely dressed and intimidating looking, standing at the edge of the couch holding the wooden paddle firmly in one hand.

“Let’s not waste time,” he’d said. “You have five minutes for the bathroom and then I want you in position on the bed.”

Mike feels remarkably at ease now. Whatever Harvey has planned it can’t be worse than a Dom who can barely stand to look at you. Right at this moment Mike can’t be bothered to figure out who’s more at fault here. He really just wants to get to the other side of this.

“I asked you last night how many strikes you earned, what did you say?”

“Nine.”

“Tell me what they were for.”

Mike licks his lips and says, “For hesitating, begging, pushiness and... for talking back.”

Harvey lays a hand on Mike’s back to still him as he fidgets. He hates this part. Why can’t they just get down to it? Why does Harvey always insist on making him _talk?_

“The way you spoke to me last night was unacceptable, Mike. Under any circumstance. If you have an issue with the way I’m handling you, you can always ask to sit down and discuss what is and is not working. But you will not treat me with so little respect. Do you understand?”

Mike nods against the sheets.

“I didn’t hear you.”

“Yes.”

“Last night you accused me of doubling your punishment.”

Mike waits for him to say more. When he doesn’t, Mike realizes Harvey is waiting for him to acknowledge it.

“Yeah.”

“I wouldn’t have. But I will now. You’ll count all eighteen.”

Mike digs his fingers into the sheets as Harvey steps behind him. The paddle isn’t something they use all that often. It’s painful without any of the caressing sting of other implements. It also makes him feel uncomfortably like a kid getting a punishment from his parents. Most Subs had a small paddle hanging in their room when they were young. Mike’s Gram couldn’t bring herself to pick up a paddle, but there was a woman who lived upstairs. She was a Dom who had four kids Mike played with. Sometimes, when he’d misbehave and refuse to apologize, or worse still, refuse to accept one of the punishments Gram would dish out - like chores, or no TV for a week, or worst of all... no Trevor - Gram would disappear and return with Mrs. Peterson. God, Mike hated her. She never smiled and always looked down her nose at him. She would make him apologize to Gram and then he’d have to hold on to the kitchen chair while she whacked him through his jeans.

Looking back, she probably put half the force behind those paddles than she would have for her own kids. It barely hurt at all. But the embarrassment was enough to make him try to avoid going through it again.

Mike hears the tell tale whooshing sound of the paddle cutting through the air followed by the hard unforgiving whack as it lands on bare skin. He hisses. Fuck, that hurts. He almost forgets to say “one”, but Harvey is merciful and pauses long enough for Mike to collect himself and croak it out. It’s a good thing, too. Mike doesn’t think he could stand being scolded again right now.

When it’s all over. When Mike has croaked out “I’m sorry. I’m really sorry” a couple times to a Harvey who is _finally_ meeting his eye, Harvey kisses him. He holds Mike’s chin between his fingers and places one, soft, close-mouthed kiss to his lips. It’s the best sign of forgiveness Mike could have asked for.

 

  
Harvey sits on the couch reading the newspaper while Mike lays face down with his cheek on Harvey’s thigh. Occasionally Harvey’s hands trail teasingly over his red hot flesh. Although Mike knows how much his Dom likes to admire a reddened ass his persistent touch is soothing and almost apologetic.

Mike is dozing in and out of consciousness. He’s still weary from an anxious sleep, and lazy from punishment.

“We need to talk,” Harvey says as he sets the paper down on the coffee table.

Mike turns his head to look up at him. “Yeah,” he agrees

He pulls his hand off Mike and sighs. “This is a conversation for later, but in the meantime you have permission to take a break from our previously set rules. You need to feel comfortable speaking freely. Now, get dressed. We’ll talk over lunch.” 

“It’s almost lunch time?” Mike asks incredulously.

“I let you sleep. 

 

  
Mike picks idly at a plate of pasta that would probably be delicious if he weren’t so distracted by the conversation Harvey refuses to begin, and the discomfort of sitting on an under-padded dining room chair. Mike finally gives up and sets his fork down. 

“Should I have them bring you a cushion?” Harvey asks.

Mike shakes his head. “No, thank you.”

The sommelier comes by to refill Mike’s white wine. The bottle has barely left the edge of the glass before Mike is swooping it up and guzzling.

Harvey reaches across the table to still his hand. “Whoa, slow down.”

Mike coughs.

“You need to calm down, Mike. I can tell you’re coming unglued, and that’s why we’re talking things through.”

Mike clutches the wine glass when Harvey tries to take it from him. Harvey sighs and acquiesces.

“Talking what through?” Mike says. “You haven’t said anything. Not one thing.”

Harvey sits back in his chair and strums his fingers on the table. “Do you understand what I’m trying to help you learn here? You accused me last night of making you into someone you’re not and -”

“I thought I was forgiven for that,” Mike says.

“You are.”

“Then why are you bringing it up?”

“Because being forgiven of something doesn’t solve the problem.”

Mike slumps in his chair.

“Mike, if you only knew how spectacularly wrong you are in thinking I want a Sub like Ethan. He’s a sweet boy who will make Jacob very happy, but he’s too perfect. He was never what I wanted.”

“What’s wrong with perfect?” Mike asks, sounding frustrated. He wouldn’t go so far as to say that Ethan is _perfect_ , but he doesn’t talk back, he doesn’t piss off his Dom, and as far as Mike knows he rarely if _ever_ gets punished outside of play. His life is peachy.

“It’s boring,” Harvey hisses.

“But. But, I thought I’m supposed to strive to be better? Isn’t that what you always say?”

Harvey rubs a hand down his face. “Yes.”

“And if Ethan being a good boy makes him boring... then what am I supposed to be? If I stay as I am I’m interesting, but not interesting enough to get avoid getting my ass whipped on a regular basis. And if I strive to follow his example, I become boring. I could be wrong but I don’t think you punish me for your own amusement, and I certainly don’t look forward to pissing you off.”

Harvey’s breathing is fast and deep and Mike is pretty sure his Dom is at a loss for words. He exhales and looks out into the room as if in search for an answer.

“I want to please you, Harvey. But sometimes I don’t know what you want from me, and I’m not sure you do either.” Mike tries to sound gentle, but Harvey’s eyes flare with indignation regardless. “Ever since the hearing it’s felt harder and harder to be good enough for you.”

“You _are_ good enough,” Harvey bites back. “That’s what I’m trying to tell you.”

“Then why are we doing this?” Mike demands with two palms on the table. “Why are we playing this game? I’m not allowed to even _hesitate_ to obey you, and look where it got us!” Mike has been trying to reign in his questioning of Harvey’s methods lately, but rarely, if ever, has he debated with him on something. This is supposed to be a Dom’s job. Mike shouldn’t have to worry about these things, right? Relationship direction is supposed to be out of his hands.

“You had the opportunity to say no to this _game_ as you call it. You chose it of your own free will.”

“I know! That’s because I thought it was going to make us closer. I thought you were trying to teach me something.”

“I am,” Harvey insists. “But what you don’t seem to understand, Mike, is that Roissy is also meant to be _fun_.”

Mike shakes his head. “Well, I’m not having fun. I feel like I’m at a four star correctional facility, except I don’t know what I need to do to graduate.”

Harvey blinks and gapes. He looks strangely and uncomfortably helpless.

“Sir?”

Mike and Harvey both look up. A woman Mike recognizes from the hostess desk is smiling down at them.

“Yes, what is it?” Harvey asks, shaking himself from the tension of their conversation. He looks too relieved to be off subject and that worries Mike. They haven’t solved anything. Not one thing.

“A Mister Darby has requested that you and your Sub join him for cocktails. If you’re interested we’ve arranged a private lounge for your party.”

Mike blinks at the hostess. “Who?” he asks. She ignores him, so he looks at Harvey.

“Darby?” Harvey asks. His tone is conflicted.

“Yes. Shall I show you to the lounge?”

Whatever Harvey’s thinking it’s processing at lightening speed.

“Harvey, no. Not now.”

He doesn’t seem to even hear Mike because he’s nodding and wiping his mouth with the white napkin.

“Harvey!”

The hostess looks down at him briefly and then to Harvey as if expecting him to do something about Mike’s tone.

“Thank you. If you give me the door number I can find it myself. I’m familiar with the hotel.”

She nods, gives him the directions, and leaves.

“What’s going on?” Mike asks as Harvey comes around and helps him up from his chair. “Who is this guy?”

“An old acquaintance.”

“What kind of an acquaintance?” Mike almost trips over a Sub who is kneeling at her Dom’s feet. He mumbles an apology she probably doesn’t understand and keeps walking.

“Not a very friendly one, I’m afraid.”

They’re turning into the lobby outside the dining room when Mike grabs Harvey by the sleeve and pulls, causing him to stumble. He straightens up, looks around to see if anyone noticed, and points a finger at Mike. “Don’t manhandle me,” he snaps.

“You weren’t stopping!”

“Keep quiet. We don’t need to broadcast our conversation.”

“If he’s not a friendly acquaintance, then why are we doing this now? We weren’t done talking, Harvey. I need this resolved.”

“We’re meeting with him because he represents a business opportunity I can’t ignore.”

“This is about business!?” Mike shouts.

“Do not raise your voice to me again, Mike. I swear to god, I give you an inch and you take a mile.”

They’re in the middle of a hallway with at least a dozen people staring, or trying not to stare at them, when Mike realizes how mortal Harvey is, and worst of all, how disappointing that is.

He pulls back his shoulders, not caring how Harvey interprets the gesture and asks, “Tell me what makes this more important than me, or I’m not going with you.”

Harvey deflates. “It’s not more important than you. It’s important _because_ of you.”

“How?”

Harvey looks around again to verify their privacy. “Edward Darby owns the second largest pharmaceutical company in the world, based out of London. They have offices and manufacturing centers in four European countries, China and Australia. Rumor has it he’s looking to finally branch into the U.S. market.”

“And you want to represent.”

“It’ll redeem me,” he insists.

It’s true, if Harvey were to return to Jessica with a client of that stature, anything that happened in the past would almost surely be forgotten. The company’s losses would be returned tenfold.

“What I accomplish, _you_ accomplish,” Harvey says. “We’ll be kings again.”

Mike exhales, defeated, and nods. Harvey wraps an arm around him and pulls him in for a kiss. 

“You promise we’ll finish talking later?”

Harvey pulls away just enough to look down at Mike and say, “What I’m trying to teach you is simple. I’m trying to teach you trust.”

“I do trust you.”

“You say you do, but you don’t. Now, we’ll talk more about this later.”

When they’re just outside the lounge door, Harvey turns on Mike. “Be on your best behavior around Darby, understand? He’ll be judging every word I say and every move I make. He’ll consider my handling of you a reflection of my leadership abilities.”

Mike gapes. “Oh my god, I just realized something.”

“What?”

“We’ll have to tell him who I am.”

“I know that.”

“Harvey, no! Please! I’m not even allowed to trust Rachel with my secret, and now you’re volunteering it to a stranger?”

“Keep quiet,” Harvey snaps. “We have no choice, we’ll have to take the chance.”

“I’m not taking a chance on my career to get you extra kudos with Jessica.”

“It would be way more than extra kudos, you know that. And besides, I know something about him that would make it extremely unwise of him to go tongue wagging to _anyone_.”

“Are you sure?” Mike whispers. “Are you absolutely sure?”

“Yes. Now, come on.”

 

  
Edward Darby is a stout, confident Dom with a deceptive glint in his eye that makes Mike immediately nervous.

“Harvey, it’s good to see you,” he says. His voice has the smooth elegant drawl of an upper-crust Englishman. “And at Roissy, no less. I’d thought you’d given up on the place.”

Harvey’s jaw twitches around a smile. “Bad memories can be forgotten and replaced with good. Edward, meet Michael Ross.”

Mike steps out and offers his hand with a smile.

Darby chortles as if he’s the most amusing thing he’s ever seen. “Forward little thing, isn’t he?”

Mike frowns, takes a step back, and looks at Harvey helplessly. What had he done wrong?

“Mike is unique,” Harvey explains.

“And you’ve collared him? How remarkable. I suppose a little spirit can be rewarding.” Harvey directs Mike to one of two facing loveseats. He lowers himself, but finds that he can’t decide how to sit comfortably. Darby is staring at him with a grin, judging every move he makes. God, it makes his skin crawl. Finally, Harvey puts an arm around him.

“Quite an inexperienced puppy, isn’t he?” Darby says with amusement. “How novel for you.”

Mike’s cheeks flush with righteous indignation. Darby laughs. Harvey pinches Mike’s arm in warning.

“He’s still unaccustomed to how things work here. Please forgive him, his only instruction is to please me and at the moment he’s doing just fine.”

Mike melts under the indirect praise and reassurance.

“Well, I must say Harvey that it is good to see you. And while I’d heard you’d collared a Sub I had to see it for myself. Congratulations.”

Mike gulps. Fuck. Who had he heard that from? Hardly anyone knows.

“Thank you,” Harvey replies. “And may I inquire after your own guest? Or are you here to watch? I remember how much you used to enjoy that.”

Darby takes a sip of something dark and strong, cringes, and shakes his head. “No need to be snide, Specter. Really, I thought we’d moved on. Bygones and all that.”

“I would like to think so. I’d like to put history behind us and move on, professionally.”

“Professionally?” Darby says with a raised eyebrow. “I see we aren’t mincing words. Should I take it you’ve accepted my hospitality for _professional_ reasons alone?”

“You and I have one thing in common, Darby.”

“What’s that?”

“Neither of us are deceptive about our motives.”

Darby grins as if sharing in some devious personal secret.

“I know you’re shopping for a firm in the states, and if you think you’ll find better representation, you’re delusional. If our history makes the potential for a professional relationship impossible between us, then Mike and I will gladly leave you to your weekend and continue enjoying ourselves.”

Mike looks up at Harvey and then back to Darby, knowing he’s missing eighty percent of what’s going on.

Darby takes another sip from his drink and hums contemplatively. “I feel I don’t know you anymore Specter. We were good friends once, but I worry you are harboring too many hard feelings toward me. I need someone I can trust to support my interests and respect my personal life.”

Harvey’s eyes narrow.

“Granted,” Darby continues, “You have a very pretty boy there, and your obvious affection for him reassures me.”

Just when Harvey is about to further question Darby, the door behind them opens. They all turn to look.

Mike watches a Sub saunter in. She’s nearly naked and stunningly beautiful. She’s bare aside from a small form fitting pair of leather panties as dark as her long wavy hair. Her small feet move over the floor soundlessly and her breasts sit impressively high and pert with small delicate nipples still red from some earlier abuse. She wears a solid gold collar around her neck and sports pretty red bruises around each wrist and ankle, all of which somehow make her more of a sexual fantasy than she would otherwise be. Although he didn’t see quite so much of her last time, the chilling reality of who this is clicks in his memory. Faces are harder than words to remember with picture perfect clarity. But Scottie’s face is not one he would forget.

She’s smiling at Harvey as she glides down to an elegant kneel at Darby’s feet. Harvey is so tense Mike thinks he can feel his nails slowly cutting through the fabric of Mike’s shirt. 

“Oh dear. Judging from your expression, I’d harbor a guess that you didn’t know Scottie was still mine.”

Mike bites his tongue as the puzzle pieces start fitting together, as he begins to realize what causes Harvey’s icy tone and conflicted cordiality. Sitting across from them is the man Scottie chose over Harvey. The first Sub he ever loved chose the Dom Harvey now feels is his ticket to once again becoming the golden boy of Pearson Hardman.

“No. I did not.”

Scottie smirks before lifting her face up to her Dom, who strokes her cheek with permission to speak.

“Harvey has little faith in my loyalty,” she says. “When I saw him in New York, he must not have believed it was your collar I wore.” Darby smiles down at her affectionately.

“A man of little faith? I don’t know if I like that quality in a Dom.”

Mike’s eyes narrow dangerously at Scottie, who grins and laughs silently under her Dom’s hand. What collar? The bitch hadn’t been wearing one and she’d practically thrown herself at Harvey!

“My trust must be earned, Darby. What I lack in trust for Scottie is personal and not a reflection of my professional loyalties. I always stick behind my clients.”

“Don’t be so hard on him Eddy,” Scottie says. “He was a perfect gentleman.”

Wrong again, Mike thinks. Harvey had been itching to punch her in the nose the whole time.

“Where was this again?” Darby asks with a frown.

Harvey says nothing but Scottie is quick to reply. “I saw him while picking up a sandwich at that little place I like near the old office. Harvey was having lunch with Mike.” She winks at him. “Isn’t that right?”

“Yes,” Harvey says stonily.

Mike tries to steel his face, but the web of deceit they’re weaving makes him uncomfortable. Scottie had been collarless and hunting for a one-night-stand, preferably with Harvey. 

He wants to claw her eyes out, but he can’t. He should at least be happy that she hasn’t outed him. He’d gone to that bar as Mike Ross, Dom associate at Pearson Hardman, and that’s clearly not the persona he’s sporting now.

“I do hate knowing she’s in another country without me. But even my significant influence can’t change the demands of her career.” He turns to smile at Mike. “You must have similar feelings on the subject, Mike?”

It’s the first time Mike has had to speak. He feels lucky not to have embarrassed himself by squeaking when he says, “Sometimes, sir. But then, Harvey would rather take me with him.”

Darby chuckles. “He even speaks for you, Harvey. What a remarkable thing he is. I doubt I would have the patience, but then you always were up for a challenge.”

Mike flushes hot. Fuck, he can’t do anything right.

“Mike is correct, I do prefer his company when out of town, and I’ve never felt the need to forbid him from speaking his mind. So please, don’t confuse him.”

Harvey rubs a palm up and down Mike’s back.

“Come now, Harvey. He’s hardly a wilting flower. I don’t think I’ve frightened him quite yet.”

Scottie grins mischievously. God, she creeps the fuck out of him.

“Let’s get back to the subject at hand. I’d like the opportunity to represent. You and I both know that taking your business elsewhere is foolish. Let’s consider it not only a mutually profitable business agreement, but also a gesture of forgiveness and good faith. Let’s shake on it now and work over the details when the weekend is over. There’s no reason not to continue enjoying Roissy.”

Mike’s heart is racing. There’s nothing he likes or trusts about Darby and his Sub. Knowing they’ll both be a regular fixture in Harvey and his professional lives makes him uneasy. Knowing they’ll undoubtedly drip into their private lives and conversations makes him nauseous. But Harvey’s right. The opportunity is sitting in front of them and if there’s one thing he’s learned as a lawyer, it’s that unpleasant clients are an unavoidable constant.

“I agree, Harvey. No reason not to enjoy Roissy. I’ll tell you what. I’ve arranged to have Scottie perform tonight at The Playroom. She loves an audience. You and Mike are welcome to join us.”

Mike gulps. There isn’t a thing he can imagine more unpleasant than losing an evening that could have been just Harvey and he, trying to make the best out of what has so far been a fairly disastrous vacation. 

And what will this mean for Harvey? Seeing his old Sub once again, performing what will surely be an example of sexual and submissive fantasy that will outshine everything Mike has ever done or been for him. 

He’s going to puke.

“We’d be delighted,” Harvey says. 

What else can he say? A no would have been a slap in the face. They’re both stuck. If Harvey is to get this deal, they’re at Darby’s mercy, and that terrifies Mike. He lowers his eyes to hide the emotion revealed there.

“Very good. I look forward to showing off my pet, as always. Now, why don’t you take your own little treat someplace private? He looks like he needs some seeing to.”

Mike shivers. Both Darby and Scottie laugh.

Once Harvey has said his cordial goodbye they leave. Somehow his inability to even get off the couch has worked more in his favor than even his most rehearsed example of faux-hospitality. Apparently for Darby, stunned silence and immobility is better than too much eye contact.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _First, I want to apologize for the longer than estimated delay on this chapter. I tried to hold off a bit so that I could get a head start on future chapters, but unfortunately that didn't really happen. I still have a bit more to write and send to my beta before I'll be able to post chapter 9, so please do not expect another chapter for at least 10 days. Similarly, I profusely apologize for ANY lack of response to comments or replays last chapter. I'm not ignoring you, I'm just insanely busy and systematically falling asleep before I have a chance to open my laptop!_
> 
> _Now, in response to some heated feedback I received on the previous chapter I have clearly upset and/or worried quite a few of you. I knew this was going to be a likely reaction and tried to properly prepare you for the inevitability of some more difficult themes in this fic. I sincerely hope that I've not driven away any readers! As I've told some of you - there will be bumpy roads in the future, but there is a light at the end of the tunnel! Many of you brought up some well informed and valid points that I very much hope will be adequately addressed in future chapters._
> 
> _As always, if you have any questions do not hesitate to comment, but if you'd like to see answers to my commonly asked questions, please consider reading this Tumblr post - http://poppypickford.tumblr.com/post/64665690736/spoilers-a-note-on-chapter-7-of-malpractice_
> 
> _Thank you!  
>  -PoppyPickford_


	9. Chapter 9

Back in their room, Harvey gives Mike more space than he’s had all week. He doesn’t have to ask to use the bathroom - where he hides undisturbed for a half hour to slowly come unglued and then piece himself together again. When he finally emerges he prides himself on feeling calm, collected and mature despite his instinct to curl up in a ball and hide. Harvey is sitting on the patio with his forehead in one palm. 

“Hey.”

Harvey startles. “Shit. I didn’t hear you.”

“Sorry.” He shuffles awkwardly in the open doorway until Harvey pats the space beside him. Mike smiles and slips in gratefully. He’s not sure where they stand, nor what his rules are, but for the moment he’s pretty sure Harvey wouldn’t dare yell at him for anything short of a literal slap in the face. 

Mike wraps himself around his Dom and buries his face into the warm fragrant skin under his jaw. They exhale. Mike lets his Harvey hold him for a long time. He lets him stroke his skin, kiss his head, and play with the growing hair around his ears before he says “we _have_ to talk, Harvey.”

“I know.”

Mike tries to turn away so he can sit up and face him, but suddenly Harvey is pulling him against his chest in such a tight bear hug he can hardly breathe. Harvey clasps him with one arm and buries a hand in his hair. His back pops from the pressure, but Mike presses in anyway, not caring if it hurts a little. This is the most unbridled and intense moment of affection Mike can remember and he wants to savor it.

 _I love you_ , sits on Mike’s tongue, but he bites his lip and digs his fingers into Harvey’s chest, too afraid, too pathetically afraid to say anything.

By the time Harvey lets go Mike’s eyes are moist with tears.

“I need to take you to bed,” Harvey says softly.

Mike closes his eyes and exhales. Harvey’s avoiding. He’s avoiding the reality of the shit storm of problems they’re having. Not just with work, or with Darby, but with each other. Usually Harvey’s the one sitting Mike on the couch with a cup of tea and a sure and sturdy hand on the shoulder. Harvey is the one that forces Mike to face his problems and come to a solution. Mike wishes he were strong enough to do the same, but he’s not. He’s weak willed and wants nothing more than to push everything to the side and pretend there’s nothing between him and his Dom but skin and sweat and pleasure.

“Let me take you to bed,” Harvey says. “Please, Mike."

Mike’s breath catches in his throat. _Harvey just begged._ The realization is unnerving, scary and most of all - incredibly arousing. Mike is never on the receiving end of desperate pleading want. It’s intoxicating.

"Everything has gone to shit, and I -", his exhale is ragged and pained. "And I've fucked it all up. I’m losing everything."

Mike puts his hands on each of Harvey's cheeks. “No you haven’t. And you definitely haven’t lost me.” Harvey’s eyes are frantic. “You’re scaring _me_. Tell me what to do.”

“Let me take you to my bed,” he says again, gripping Mike possessively. “Let me make love to you.”

The word causes Mike’s breath to catch in his throat. “You don’t have to ask me for that, Harvey,” Mike says softly. “I’m yours.”

Harvey wastes no time standing. He moves as if with a constrained passion that is at this moment become unteathered. Before Mike has his feet on the floor Harvey picks him up and is carrying him with determination to the bedroom. Mike wraps his arms around Harvey’s neck and begins suckling his skin, licking his pulse point, and moaning around a nibble of ear. He doesn’t even care that he’s being carried like a child. Usually it bothers him when Harvey does shit like this, but today it makes him giddy and sentimental and hot.

When Mike hits the bed with a little bounce he waits about three seconds for some sign that there will be instruction from his Dom, but Harvey just pulls off his t-shirt and stares at Mike like it’s already a burden that he’s slightly more dressed. So Mike sits up and pushes his clothes off with less care than he’d usually give the expensive fabrics, even if Harvey weren’t watching him. The abandon seems to be affecting Harvey too as he throws his jacket into a wad and steps on it while pulling off his shoes without bothering with the laces.

When Mike gets his last layer off, a tight white undershirt, Harvey is already between his legs and panting. Mike grabs a handful of Harvey’s hair in a move he’s never really dared before, but it makes Harvey growl and his kisses grow fiercer, deeper, and more carnal. 

When Harvey doesn’t immediately correct Mike’s lapse from pushiness to just plain demanding, a startling 180 from what he’d wanted Mike to be on this trip, he decides to cautiously test his limits. As Harvey kisses him Mike bites down on his bottom lip causing Harvey to pull away briefly, startled. He looks down at Mike with his open inviting lips, half-lidded eyes and panting breath, and decides to return the favor. This bite, however, is not playful. It’s verging on too hard and makes Mike clench his eyes against the pain. When Harvey pulls his teeth away slowly Mike’s lip slips out with a throbbing pop.

Suddenly his whole mouth is hot and oversensitive. He runs his tongue over Mike’s lip and finds the flesh plump. Harvey looks at his work with satisfaction. He glances at Mike to test his reaction before moving to Mike’s left ear. He pauses. Mike exhales and turns his head in eager offering. Harvey thrusts between Mike’s legs excitedly, before tucking away Mike’s hair and biting down hard enough on his ear that Mike keens. 

When he’s worked over both ears, the tender upper lip, and even the stubbly tip of Mike’s chin, he moves down to bite at Mike’s nipples until both are bright red, swollen, and so sensitive that even the slide of Harvey’s skin as he moves down Mike’s body makes him wince.

Harvey sits back on his heels to admire his work. He runs a finger over Mike’s red and swollen bites with a serious set to his lips. When his eyes make their way to his cock, he frowns. Mike is hard, _really_ hard, but apparently not hard enough because Harvey swallows him like the erection has offended him. He sucks so well that he has to hold Mike’s hips down. He’s only satisfied when Mike is whining pathetically, eyes rolled back, hands curled around the bed frame. His whole body feels like one hot throbbing mess, even though Harvey only concentrated on a few erogenous zones. 

He manages to open his eyes and look at Harvey. Usually he’d be cocky, smug and appreciative. Instead his eyebrows are knit together and troubled. 

“Hey,” Mike says breathily. “Where’d you go?”

Harvey’s gaze snaps up to him and he looks heart broken for a moment. As quick as it was there, it’s gone. Mike licks his swollen lips and sits up. He gently guides Harvey’s mouth back to him and then lets go, waiting for Harvey to take the lead. For a few moments Mike thinks he’s not going to, that he’s going to remain frozen and unsettlingly distant, when he suddenly snaps back into awareness, looks down at Mike’s open and marked body and takes control.

 

Mike comes to a realization as he stares down at his suitcase full of simple and completely discreet clothing. 

Clearly Harvey is coming unglued in a way Mike has absolutely no idea how to handle. Attempts to talk out their issues are met with avoidance, frustration and fear. Attempts to fuck them out are becoming, while pleasurable, increasingly disquieting. The myriad of reasons he can think to explain this are too vast and conflicted to offer any solution so he has to be rational. He’s a great thinker but he’s the first to admit that emotions can and will cloud his mind. 

When Mike thinks about it he realizes that Harvey is distracted. Severely distracted. He was distracted by his career and by what is and is not working in their relationship. Those two things Mike can deal with. Those things he’s a part of. But now there’s a third thing distracting Harvey - Scottie. And Scottie is not something that Mike can control. He can’t make her disappear. She’s here, she’s a problem, and there’s not a fucking thing Mike can do about that.

And yet, there is something he can do to redirect Harvey’s attention. It would be irresponsible to pretend that he hadn’t been a disappointment to Harvey this weekend. Harvey imagined days and nights filled with a fantasy of Mike – free, willing, unabashed and erotic. Instead he got a frightened inexperienced Sub who, despite his best intentions, doesn’t want to leave their bedroom for fear that someone might have the audacity to look at him with more than the professionalism he’s become accustomed to. 

Tonight Scottie is going to put on a show of perfect submission - a perfect submission that Harvey has tasted before and could taste _again_ if he gave her the opportunity. 

Yeah well, Mike isn’t going to sit there all buttoned up and sheepish. No fucking way.

Harvey has just finished buttoning his top button when he turns around and pulls a hanger off the back of the bathroom door. On it hang a pair of snug black pants and a simple V-neck. The outfit is hip and fresh enough for the club, but hardly anything remarkable. While Harvey fusses with his luggage Mike pulls the shirt off and tosses it aside. He pulls the pants up over his hips and bare cock and then zips them closed. He looks at himself in the mirror contemplatively. The waistband sits above his hipbones. With a little tug he pulls them down enough that he can see the sharp dip of his groin. One more tug reveals a whisper of hair trailing to his cock. Mike turns side to side in the mirror and gulps. A flush is already starting to color his chest as he imagines himself out, in public, and on display.

When he turns to the room he finds Harvey staring at him open mouthed. He blinks once, clears his throat, and then holds out the shirt Mike had left rumpled on the bed. 

“No, thanks,” Mike says nonchalantly.

Harvey’s eyes widen.

“You’re not going out like that.” His tone isn’t commanding so much as curious and dumbfounded. Mike smirks and slips past him into the bathroom, where, he cracks open his zipper bag of toiletries. Inside are a few things Ethan had thrust at him after Mike explained the particular quality of vacation Harvey was taking him on.

_“You’ll look so fuckable, Mike. Trust me. Save it for the right moment and you’ll have him wrapped around your finger.”_

Mike sighs and bites his lip. Going out shirtless has already shocked Harvey. Not only has Mike never volunteered to be seen in public half-dressed, but he’s never been quite so shameless about the, shall we say, blatant evidence of Harvey’s sexual claim on him. He touches the dark red and purple love bites and hickeys freckling his upper body. 

With a gulp Mike gets to work. First, he removes a smoky black eyeliner and carefully smudges his bottom lash until his eyes look weighted and sultry. Then, taking Ethan on his word, he pulls out a jar of a thick cosmetic gel. 

With careful fingers he dabs a small amount on his bottom lip and then, coating his palms with a thin layer he rubs down his chest and into the muscles around his belt line. After washing his hands he turns side to side in the mirror, contemplating the effect. 

He has to admit, the subtle shine defines the sharpness of his hipbones and, even though the gel dries silky soft, the light catches to make his skin glow golden.

 

Surprisingly, Mike enjoys the way other Doms look at him as he walks to the club. He _definitely_ likes the way Harvey can’t stop stealing glances and the possessive tightening of his grip on Mike’s hip. But what makes all this _really_ worth it is the way Scottie glares at him as she’s guided in nude by her Dom. It’s brief, too brief to be noticed by anyone not looking for it, but it’s there.

She’s smiling sweetly by the time Darby takes a seat on the couch opposite them. While Mike has been allowed to sit beside and in the circle of his Dom’s arm, Scottie is pushed gently to the floor. She sinks to her heels obediently, but Mike spots the subtle bob of her throat as she submits. 

“My my, Michael, you look like something the cat dragged in.” Although Darby directs the comment to him, from the way he shifts his eyes to Harvey before the words have left his mouth suggest that Mike isn’t welcome to respond.

“You suggested I enjoy my Sub this afternoon. I did just that.” They chuckle in camaraderie and each take sips from their sparkling waters. Hard beverages aren’t served in the playrooms, for safety reasons.

Mike glances up at Harvey and can tell, from the way his jaw clenches and twitches, that it’s taking every ounce of his control not to stare at Scottie’s nudity. As he and Darby continue their pleasantries he sinks slightly into Harvey’s embrace, rubbing himself innocently against his Dom’s side. Harvey looks down at him, smiles heatedly, and returns to his conversation. 

Away from the notice of her Dom, Scottie scowls at him.

“Will Michael be entertaining us as well tonight?” Darby asks.

Before Mike has time to express his panic, Harvey is gripping him and saying, “No. He doesn’t enjoy performing in public.”

The tightness in his throat uncoils. With gratitude he squeezes his Dom's hand. Darby looks at him with comically wide eyes while taking a sip of his water. “Do my ears deceive me? Is Harvey Specter’s Sub shy? How novel.” He looks over at Mike and says, as if addressing a child, "you mustn't be afraid. We don't bite."

"Fear isn’t the problem. Mike is the bravest Sub I’ve had the pleasure to know, but he’s chosen to keep our sexual interactions private.”

Scottie scoffs ironically. Mike knows she saw them fucking the day before. He knows without having to ask that she’d been in the room.

The four of them are independently speechless for a few moments. Finally, Darby shrugs, sets down his glass and says, “what a shame. But I suppose we all have our quirks. Now, please excuse us while I get Scottie set up.”

She stands gracefully. Her dark and intense gaze fixed on Harvey the whole time. 

“After her performance, I’ll be glad to talk business with you," Darby says. "I’ve been thinking about your proposal.”

Harvey nods once without letting his eagerness expose him. When the two are out of sight, Mike can’t contain himself. He turns in Harvey’s embrace, swinging one leg over his left thigh, and presses himself into a hug so tight the Dom grunts.

"What's this for?"

"You know what it's for," Mike says. The words are muffled into Harvey's coat.

Harvey kisses him on the temple and pulls away so they're nose to nose.

"I'm so sorry I didn't notice sooner."

"Notice what?" Mike asks.

Harvey rubs a hand over his face. "How unhappy you are."

"I'm not -"

"Don't lie, Mike." He says it with a note of defeat and exhaustion.

"If I'm unhappy it's only because you are too. I just want to make you," _love me, want me, keep me,_ "pleased with me."

Harvey takes each of Mike's hands and holds them tightly against his chest. "When I said this afternoon that nothing pleases me more than you, just as you are, I meant it." Mike chokes back the telltale tightening in his throat. "I've confused and upset you this weekend. That was never my intent."

"I know."

"I wanted to show you something new and exciting and instead I made you feel inadequate."

Before Mike has time to respond, Darby is plopping down in the seat across from them with a grunt. "Couldn't keep your hands off each other, I see."

Mike slides off Harvey's lap reluctantly and lowers his eyes in the deference Darby expects.

"What will Scottie be performing tonight?" Harvey asks, sounding bored.

"Hot wax," Darby says with a proud grin. "Her tolerance is phenomenal. But then you remember that." 

"Yes."

"I hate to admit it, Harvey, but I've yet to find someone who can paint her quite as well as you did. I'll never forget it."

"I'm sure you won't."

Darby smirks and looks over to Mike. "I'm sure you can attest to his skill, can't you Mike?"

"I -" Mike licks his lips and tries to look unfazed. "I haven't had the pleasure, sir."

"Mike responds better to other types of pain," Harvey explains.

"Is that right? And what might those be?"

Before Harvey can respond, Mike cuts in. "Impact," he says plainly. Such a personal question can only be awarded with brutal honesty, "I enjoying the passion and intensity of it."

Apparently his response is titillating, not just in its content but in its forwardness. Darby grins and licks his lips. "Fascinating."

"I sincerely doubt Mike would respond as Scottie does to such calculated and removed pain," Harvey supplies. "They're very different in that way."

Harvey stokes Mike's hand with his thumb.

"Yes, well, _that_ I can see plainly."

The sarcastic derision would make Harvey punch anyone else. Anyone less likely to earn him millions. Mike leans in to offer his support and wordless reassurance... even if he is a little shaken by the comment.

"The hotel arranged a Dom for this evening’s performance”, Darby comments. "She comes highly recommended."

Mike wants to ask why he doesn't perform with his Sub personally, but doesn't dare ask.

Suddenly the room darkens and a round of polite applause rises from the crowd. Darby turns in his seat. The stage has been illuminated as a Dom - a middle aged but attractive woman with the dark olive skin of a southern Italian - leads Scottie out by the hand. The Dom is dressed simply in a fitted black suit and short heels. 

Scottie stands in the middle of the stage, naked and submissive. She would even look demure if it weren't for the willful defiance of her half-cast eyes and pleased smirk. After the Dom has turned her slowly by the hand, she helps arrange her on a low table that is slightly tilted toward the audience so as to display the body of the Sub.

Once arranged her smugness disappears and a visible sense of concentration comes over her. Her eyes drift close. Her fingers clench and unclench. Her shoulders roll gently up and then down again before she settles into a kind of voluntary subspace.

The audience was noticeably entranced by the beginnings of the show, but their concentration has already begun to drift. Several couples are talking intimately and the waiters continue to circulate the room refilling water and offering small plates of finger food.

The Dom on stage arranges six large sticks of colorful wax on a table near Scottie. She carefully places them each in front of a small glass bowl with a reverence that borders on fetishistic. Finally, she looks down into the audience and nods. To Mike's amazement, a young Male Sub mounts the stairs and joins her obediently. She whispers brief instruction to him, but it seems unnecessary as he's already taking over the task of melting wax into cups.

"Is that her Sub?" Mike whispers.

"Most likely," Harvey replies.

Mike watches the first cup fill. The young Sub's eyebrows are knit in concentration as he works. His Dom watches him with critical assessment.

"So -" Mike begins, “it's like, his scene too, huh?"

Harvey looks down at him with a proud smile. 

"Yes."

Mike nods, somehow incredibly pleased with this information.

"Scottie is just a canvas. Preparing the wax can be very difficult, especially when done so traditionally and with such expensive materials," Harvey explains. "I would think that her Sub gets a great deal of pleasure out of performing well at this. It's an art form. One she very likely taught him."

Mike watches the Sub gently set down the first thick candlestick in a holder and then take the bowl of melted wax in his hands. Mike can see him biting back a wince as he curves his hands around the bowl. He guides it steadily to a metal stand, which he then lights a candle under to keep it from hardening.

"There are much quicker ways to do this," Harvey explains, clearly enjoying sharing this knowledge with Mike. And Mike, surprisingly, is excited to learn. He should be fuming. He should be jealous as fuck at seeing his Dom watch an ex-lover laid out before him, awaiting the same attention he used to bestow on her. But he doesn't. He doesn't because Harvey is focused on him. "I use a burner that only melts two colors. It's electric," he says with humor. "And requires wax beads I buy online."

Mike smiles and pecks him on the lips. "I might not enjoy wax as much as Scottie, but that doesn't mean I wouldn't try it with you."

Harvey's smile stretches slowly across his face. "You're going to spoil me Mike Ross."

"I know," Mike says, and then goes back to watching.

When the show is over, when Scottie has been painted from neck to ankle in carefully intersecting and artfully designed wax, the Dom takes her by the hand and helps her stand for a bow. The wax flakes off as she moves, but Scottie doesn’t seem to mind despite the hisses of pain he could ear as the wax was poured over her most sensitive areas. Mike had been biting his lip as the Dom poured pools of wax over each of Scottie’s nipples, waited for it to dry, flicked it off, and started again on the same spot. 

In place of a bow Scottie curtsies shallowly to avoid loosing all her wax on the stage. Mike claps politely, Darby enthusiastically, Harvey not at all. 

“Wasn’t she exquisite?” Darby asks. His expression is of a proud parent blind to the faults of their flawed loved one. It almost endears him to Mike.

“Indeed,” Harvey agrees. “She performed well for you.”

His grin widens. Across the room Scottie is lead through the room and back to Darby. She keeps her eyes down, but Mike can see the happy lift to her lips as the crowd applauds as she passes. As soon as she’s in their circle Darby stands and takes Scottie’s hand. He kisses her cheek, pets her hair fondly, and gently strokes her hip where the skin is pink and irritated.

Darby sits back on the couch but leaves most of the space for his Sub, who he urges to join him, curled up and drowsy in his arms. As much as Mike wants to hate her, seeing her so content, so deep in subspace and happy in the affection of her Dom, is infectious.

When Darby finally has Scottie acceptably situated, fussed over and practically asleep in his arms, he turns to Harvey.

“I’ve been thinking seriously of you as a candidate for my expansion Specter, long before I spoke to you yesterday.”

Harvey tenses.

“I can’t say that this is the wisest or least complicated choice considering our history, but great relationships are never created without some risk.” He pets Scottie’s long reddening thigh. “I think we’ll be good partners. Let’s not dance around the issue any longer and shake on it.”

For a long moment no one moves, and then, with a wide unabashedly happy smile, Harvey reaches out a hand.


	10. Chapter 10

Harvey and Mike stumble happily through the front door of their suite, all lips and hands and smiles. Regardless of the ever growing pile of unfinished business - including all the confusing things Mike hasn’t had time to process about this weekend, their relationship and basically _everything_ , he can’t help but feel positively blissful. Harvey, who rarely smiles unless it’s absolutely warranted, is beaming. Sometimes Mike thinks they’re so in tune that they can feel and sense each other’s emotion. Maybe that’s sappy and sentimental and completely biologically unfounded, but when his Dom is happy, Mike is happy. When Mike is hurting, Harvey looks like someone punched him in the gut.

Harvey sits them down on the couch with a glass of scotch, holds Mike close and says - "I propose a game."

Mike's stomach flutters at the thought of the games they usually play, but he doesn't let it affect his good mood. “Yeah, okay. What do you want me to do?" He wiggles back and reaches for the zipper on his low slung pants with a forced twinkle of the eye. Harvey stills his hand.

"Not that kind of game, sweetheart."

Mike frowns.

"Come sit with me.” With a shy smile Mike lets himself be pulled into his Dom's lap. "The game is this - I ask a question, something I want to know about you. If you answer with absolute honesty, you can either ask me the same question back, or choose a new one."

"And if one of us doesn't want to answer?"

"Then we ask a new question. Only this time it _must_ be answered. What do you say?"

Mike pretends to think seriously about this, but nevertheless looks positively eager. “Yeah, I’m game.”

“Good. You first.”

Judging from the slip in Harvey's confidence, Mike's expression must convey some deep and calculating concentration. He gulps when Mike finally gets up on his knees and narrows his eyes seriously.

"What's your favorite color?"

Harvey's laugh is loud and rich and boisterous.

"It's blue. And yours?"

"Orange," he replies with a smile. "How do we not know this about each other?"

Harvey shrugs. “It never came up?"

"That's a terrible excuse."

"Yes, well. I do know a lot of other things about you."

"Oh yeah? Like what?"

Harvey tilts his head. "I know that bacon is your favorite food."

"Easy."

"And your favorite place to be kissed is," he leans forward and places his lips right below Mike's left ear. "Here."

"Easy," Mike whispers.

"And I know that your parents names are Nina and James."

"I never told you that.”

"Yes, you did. You were deep under at the time, but you told me. I also know that you got the first of many bikes when you were seven years old.”

“And have loved them ever since," Mike adds.

"That's right. I also know that you listen to country music on your iPod when you’re sad and don't want me to know about it. Although, I can't imagine why.” He reaches over to take another sip of scotch.” I know you hate cooking more than you let on,” he smiles, “unless I let you bake brownies. I know that your first kiss was with Trevor when you were eleven and you both thought it was, and I quote, ‘icky’. And I know that if given the choice, you'd rather spend the day wearing your pajamas at home than even the best suit at the best restaurant in New York."

"And you're the opposite," Mike adds.

Harvey shrugs. "That depends. I certainly enjoy a night on the town, but under the right circumstances a day at home is significantly more enjoyable."

"Am I one of those circumstances?"

"One of the only."

Mike smiles shyly and leans in for a kiss. "It's your turn."

Harvey nods. "Okay. What's your favorite holiday?"

"Christmas," Mike says with finality.

"Because of your grandmother?"

“No,” he says. “It's when you collared me."

Harvey's lighthearted grin turns serious. "Really?"

“Yeah, of course. Last Christmas was the best holiday of my life. No competition. My grammy and I always celebrated and everything, but there was never much money so it was tense. She hated that she couldn't buy me nice presents and no matter how much I insisted that gifts didn't matter, she seemed sad." Mike shrugs. "I also think she missed my mom the most at Christmas."

"I barely remember what we did except work and -"

"Fuck?" Mike says with a laugh. 

"If you have to put it so crudely."

"We were excited."

"I was blindingly in awe of you."

Mike blushes. "We did other things too."

"Like what?"

"We watched old movies."

"Ah, yes. It’s A Wonderful Life."

"And we did that thing they always do in movies where you sit in front of the fire with hot chocolate and just... be together. I think that was the best part."

"I liked that too.”

“Ah man, that sounds so awesome right now,” Mike says wistfully. “I’d kill for hot chocolate. Too bad it’s, like, eighty degrees out.”

“You know,” Harvey says slowly, “Christmas is really just a state of mind.”

A half hour later, at eleven o’clock on a warm evening in Italy, Harvey has two confused looking maids come to the room and start a fire in the bleached and unused looking fireplace. Mike is sitting on the couch in his pajamas with a cup of hot chocolate and a thick fluffy blanket. The maids chatter to each other and fumble with the firewood. Harvey winks at Mike, making him laugh.

When the fire is blazing and the air-conditioner is turned as cold as possible, Harvey plops down on the couch next to Mike and throws an arm around him.

"How's this?" Harvey whispers in his ear.

"It's perfect. You're ridiculous, but perfect."

" _I'm_ perfect?" Harvey asks incredulously. "I don't know about that."

"Well, _right now_ , you're perfect."

"Thank you, baby."

Harvey leans down and kisses him deeply. He tries to take Mike's hot chocolate away but Mike whines and pulls back. 

"I want to enjoy my fake Christmas and you're distracting me."

"My apologies."

"So is it my turn?"

"Shoot."

"Where else have you been in Italy?"

Harvey shrugs. "I've been to Rome and Milan a few times for business, and I stayed for two weeks in Venice when I was in college. Filthy place. I have no desire to go back. I still haven't been to Tuscany, but I'd like to very much."

"With me?" Mike asks with an eyebrow wiggle.

"Of course." Harvey pecks him on the lips and runs fingers through his hair. "Is there anything you want to do tomorrow? It's our last day and I know this has all been a great disappointment."

Mike thinks. "I think... I think I'd like to go boating. If that's possible."

"You like boats?"

Mike nods. "My dad took me fishing sometimes, when I was little."

"I have a yacht."

"You do not."

"Yes, I do," Harvey laughs. "I just never have time to use it. I'll call my maintenance guy when we get back and tell him to get it spiffed up."

Mike beams.

"And tomorrow I'd be thrilled to take you out on the lake. It's gorgeous."

Mike enjoys the last thread of happy conflict free attention while he steels himself for the next question. When Harvey gently prods him, he says, "Who else have you been to Roissy with?"

It's clear Harvey thought he was free and clear of the difficult and delicate questions. Their laughter and carefree attitude had been unfairly deceiving. But Mike is not about to loose this opportunity, and, as they say - best to just get it over with.

Harvey tries to look unfazed when he finally answers. "The first time, I came here alone. I was working with a company in Como and had to fly out every two months for almost a year. It took me a couple tries to get entrance. I wasn't as world renowned at the time," he jokes. 

“You came alone? What did you do here by yourself?" Mike asks. Harvey doesn't seem to notice that it's a question out of turn.

"There are more than enough Subs to go around, Mike. And many Doms who like to share."

Mike nods, thinking of Jacob and Ethan.

“Shortly after that I started a relationship with Scottie. She was our best associate at the time. Not as good as you, of course, but -"

"Wait," Mike says. "Scottie was an associate at Pearson Hardman?"

"Yes."

"As a Sub."

Harvey nods. "Rules were a little looser then, when Hardman was still around. Besides, I suspect she got her foot in the door by sleeping with the partners," he says with derision. "I doubt I was the first, but, I was cocky and she was so good at making you feel special." His far away look is pained and tired. “Anyway, after we’d been scening for a couple months I took her to Roissy as a reward. She _loved_ it, so we came back again. That's when we met Darby. We returned once more after that and I haven't had the desire to return since. Until now, that is.”

Harvey’s facial muscles twitch with the effort to remain emotionless while discussing the difficult memories. Memories he probably never wanted, nor intended to share with Mike. 

“We met Edward completely by accident and he charmed Scottie almost immediately. I don't know why exactly. Mostly the money, I'm sure. But also something else. A quality. A confidence."

Mike tucks his hand into Harvey's tense grip.

"She asked me if we could perform one night at the club when she knew he'd be there - we both did. And at the time I didn't mind. She's always been an exhibitionist and I thought I loved that about her."

The word _loved_ makes Mike wince.

"Afterward we got talking, and then we got drunk. Too drunk. And the next thing I know Darby is in our room, watching us fuck."

Mike has to bite his lip to keep from looking shattered by this - by the knowledge that their new business partners, the ones Harvey bent over backward to obtain, have known him so intimately.

"I thought I was into it, you know? Scottie has a way of manipulating you into thinking that everything is your idea. That you have control over things, but you never do. When we went home we were happier than ever. A couple months later, when I was seriously considering collaring her, she suggested we return for another trip. Just her and me this time, she said." He shrugs. "She'd gone behind my back to make sure Darby knew we'd be there."

"Why?" Mike asks softly. "I don't get it. If she wanted to be with him why didn't she just leave?”

Harvey blinks as if fighting off tears, then looks away. "I still don't understand it. I was angry. I told her she couldn't manipulate me into something like that. A one time thing is different than introducing another Dom into our relationship. She looked at me like I didn't understand her at all. We went to bed that night and when I woke up she was gone."

Mike's eyes widen.

"She was at Darby's feet in the breakfast room. I'd been frantically looking for her and she'd snuck out. Left me. I found out later that when Darby had been in New York a month earlier they’d seen each other behind my back.”

Mike kneels up and wraps an arm around his Dom, pulling him in. "Thank you for telling me that," Mike says gently. "I wanted to understand."

Harvey shrugs. "It was a long time ago and Scottie had her reasons. She's happy now."

"But that can't excuse what she did. You have every right to be angry, Harvey. You have every right to hate her.“

"I was angry for a long time, Mike. It didn't help me. I hate her sometimes, but even when someone hurts you that much you can't simply forget the good things about them, and what they meant to you - even if it was only for a little while.”

Mike smiles in what he hopes looks is perceived as encouragement but is closer to bitter confusion. All he can think about are _the good things_ Harvey remembers, and whether or not they still matter. He can’t stop himself from dwelling on what makes Harvey still think about her, and if he still wants her.

"Has coming here ruined anything between us?" Harvey asks with a barely noticeable quiver.

Mike forces himself to disconnect from images of Scottie with her lithe and beautiful figure, her glowing smile and all the good times they must have shared here, in a room just like this. He shakes his head. "No. I've learned a few things, but it hasn't changed how I feel about you."

The tension that coils up between them at Mike's words is palatable. Harvey licks his lips. He looks into Mike's eyes hotly. The reality of what is about to happen scares Mike so much he starts to shake.

"And how do you feel about me?"

The question hangs there between them. The realization of what his Dom wants presses on him, encourages him to say what he already knows - that he loves Harvey. But more powerful than that is his fear and self-doubt. Once he says it, once Mike takes the plunge, he can't take it back again. And what if Harvey just smiles and pets his hair and says _Thank you, baby._ He'd be owned. Harvey would _own_ him. Mike knows that saying the words would bind him forever to the man, a man who Mike has no real proof is going to always be there. Harvey said he wanted him as long as Mike would have him, and maybe he really does. But shit happens. People change. And in his experience, loving someone usually means losing them.

These panicked thoughts make Mike's pulse quicken, his cheeks flush, and his skin tingle. "It's my turn to ask a question," he says when the tension becomes too much and he realizes that he has to say _something._

Harvey blinks as if coming out of a trance. "Of course."

"Are you in love with Scottie?"

Looking back… it’s the stupidest thing Mike has ever done. The moment was there. The atmosphere was right. Harvey _wanted_ him to say it, he _needed_ him to say it and if Mike hadn’t been so blind he’d have known that Harvey would gladly have loved him in return. It was their time. Their moment, but Mike Ross ruined it.

Harvey's attitude changes dramatically. Anger rises to the surface and seems about to boil over. “No, I'm fucking not."

"Were you ever?"

"It's my turn now," he snaps. "We're playing a game, remember?"

Mike nods sheepishly.

"Do you trust me?” 

Mike opens his mouth.

“Do you trust me to take care of you? Do you trust that I'll stay true to the promises I made to you when I collared you?”

“Harvey, I’m sorry I asked you that about Scottie,” he pleads, tears already threatening and his voice already choked. “I know it’s none of my business.”

“Answer the question, or don’t. But don't you dare lie to me." 

The question makes tears stream down his cheeks. He knows he only has two options here, and the horrible truth is the best of two impossible choices. By not answering Mike will be trapped answering a question that could, and likely will, be infinitely worse. Besides, silence on this subject is just as telling as the truth. 

This infallible and unshakable trust Harvey values so highly is not something he can convince Mike of so easily. Mike, who until Harvey hadn’t trusted _any_ Dom. But even though Mike has told him again and again that Harvey has all the trust he knows how to give, it’s never enough. Mike wants to say yes, he really does. But lying to Harvey and making him think their problems are resolved is worse than hurting him.

"No," he whispers finally. “I trust you, but not like you want me to. I’m sorry, Harvey.” 

The silence that follows in deafening. Even the crackle of the fireplace and hum of the air conditioner fades away. Mike can see something shatter in Harvey’s eyes. Finally, Harvey turns away and looks out dumbfounded at the big empty room.

“Harvey, you have to know that I’m trying. I want to be what you want, but you wanted the truth and the truth is that I can’t make myself trust someone unconditionally on promises alone. I need consistency. I need time… I just need more time, Harvey.”

Mike reaches out to touch his shoulder. He expects Harvey to jump or push him away or something, but he just sits there like he can’t feel anything.

“I’m going to go to go for a walk,” Harvey says.

“It’s midnight.”

“I want you to clean up a little, take a shower and then get into bed.” Mike nods even though Harvey isn’t looking at him. “I’ll be back in an hour. Maybe less.”

Mike wants to argue, but decides against it. He knows what it feels like to need air so bad you think you’re going to suffocate. “You’ll be careful?”

“Of course.”

“I’ll wait up for you.”

Harvey turns and pulls Mike into a hug so brief and so tight Mike barely has time to process it. Then he’s standing up, picking up his shoes, and walking briskly out the veranda doors.

Mike stares after him for awhile, breathing deeply. Finally he stands up and starts following his Dom’s direction without thinking once about how miserable the truth feels, and how much he wishes they could have lived a fantasy just a little while longer.

 

A gentle draft washes over Mike as he lays in bed staring at the window, hoping he might see Harvey pass by on the beach. 

The sliding door creaks. He sits up. In the living room Harvey is quietly locking the door and draping his jacket over one of the chairs at the dining table.

He walks steadily up the stairs then looks over at Mike, smiling tiredly. As soon as he’s stripped off his clothes he disappears into the bathroom and turns on the shower without bothering to shut the door. Mike lies back, watches the door, and waits. When Harvey emerges he looks more strung out than he has since before Mike’s first submission.

“You should go to sleep, sweetheart.”

Mike scoots over to make room. Harvey looks at the empty spot as if it might bite him, then slides in. He puts one arm around Mike and lets him lay against his chest.

“I need to say something.”

Harvey exhales. “I don’t think I can take any more tonight, Mike. Let’s just sleep.”

“Please?”

He doesn’t answer for so long Mike thinks he’s forbidding him with silence. “Okay.”

Mike tilts his face up so he’s looking up at his Dom, even if Harvey won’t return the attention. “I know what I said hurt you, and I really am sorry.”

Harvey grunts.

“But I just want you to know this - there hasn’t been a lot of proof in my life that people can be trusted. I mean, my whole life has basically been a big lie to keep me safe from having to trust anyone. Trust is scary to me, Harvey. So, yeah, I might not know how to trust you unconditionally. I might doubt sometimes that you’ll always be there, that I won’t wake up one morning and find you gone.”

Harvey finally looks down at him. “I would never do that. How could you think that? Especially now?”

“I know,” Mike apologizes. “What I’m trying to say is that I can’t just erase the doubt in my head. I want to, and I think that with time trust will grow and I won’t worry anymore. But here’s the thing - in my entire life, I have only trusted two people - you, and my grandmother. It might not be as much as you were hoping for, but it’s all I have to give you right now, and, and I just hope it’s enough.” 

Harvey squeezes him and places a pained sounding kiss on his head. “It’s enough.”

Mike smiles and tries not to cry when Harvey rolls into him, wraps him up in his arms, and holds him just like he did when they were first together. When sex wasn’t the first thing they thought of at night, and holding each other still felt like a novelty.

“I’ll endeavor to prove that you don’t need to doubt me, Mike. For as long as it takes. And I promise to let you move at your own pace. I just hope one day you’ll be able to come tell me I’ve succeeded in earning your trust.”

Mike nods. “I promise.”


	11. Chapter 11

Having returned to their bed, Harvey seems finally at peace enough to fall asleep. He buries his nose in Mike’s hair, inhales his scent and then slowly drifts off. Mike can always feel the shift in his Dom’s body as he enters the first phase of sleep. His muscles unknit, his breathing evens out, and then - and this is Mike's favorite part - his face relaxes until all the worry lines disappear. Mike, on the other hand, can’t sleep. In fact, he’s having a Subspace craving.

It doesn’t happen much anymore, but when it does it’s bad. Really bad. There’s something about the withdrawals that had made them seem less severe than these new post addiction cravings. It’s as if the knowledge of the chemicals seeping out of his system and wreaking havoc on his nervous system helped keep him rational. But now, when there’s nothing causing this but his own stupid brain reacting to the stress and emotional overload of the day, it feels like torture. Mike would gladly lay his head down, hold his Dom close and sleep. But if he doesn’t do something, this is only going to get worse. Fast.

Mike nudges Harvey. He grunts.

“Harvey, wake up.”

He cracks an eye.

“I need… I need you to put me under. Please.”

Harvey blinks a couple times and groans. “In the morning.”

“No, now. Harvey, I need it now.”

The urgency in Mike’s voice brings him out of the last veil of sleep. He looks at Mike with concern, undoubtedly noticing his blown pupils and sweaty brow.

“Shit.” He rises and pulls Mike up by the shoulders.

“How long?”

“Like, an hour.” He starts to shiver, but that’s probably just the air conditioner chilling his balmy skin. 

Harvey rubs his eyes, one hand still gripping Mike until he finally becomes alert enough to process what Mike is asking. 

“I’m not comfortable striking you tonight.”

“It’s not like that,” Mike complains, feeling increasingly petulant as the urgency to go under increases. What he and Harvey both know is that there is really only one way to take care of this on short notice, especially late at night, half awake, and lacking the tools to get creative. “I know the difference between a spanking for punishment and a spanking for necessity.”

“I know you do, but those lines can blur.” 

He’s right, but Mike doesn’t really care at the moment. 

“It’s not happening,” Harvey continues, “I don’t feel right about it.”

“Okay,” he says, too exhausted to argue. He could try to manipulate Harvey into a real discipline, but considering the evening’s conversation, it’s the most unkind thing he could do. He scoots closer and tucks his head so he can breathe in the musky warm and half-awake smell that lingers strongest in the crook of Harvey’s neck. “Will you just tie me up then? Please?”

Harvey grunts unhappily but gently removes himself from Mike’s arms and goes poking through some cupboard in the living room. When he comes back he has soft padded cuffs. The kind with easy to remove velcro. 

“Isn’t there anything tougher?”

“Don’t get pushy. I know you don’t feel good, Mike, but you aren’t in charge here.” He pats Mike on the thigh to encourage him to roll over. “I’m going to stay awake until you go under… or fall asleep.”

Mike lays on his stomach and puts his wrists together above his head. “I doubt either will happen. Please don’t loose sleep on my account.”

Harvey buckles his hands to a post in the headboard and then moves down to his ankles. “I’d lose sleep if you had a hangnail.”

Mike laughs but it quickly turns into the shakes. Harvey has to run his hands up and down his arms and back vigorously to make them stop. When Mike finally relaxes, Harvey is still stroking him.

“That feels good.”

Harvey grunts in acknowledgment and then disappears into the bathroom where Mike can hear him rummaging through their toiletries. He lays his head on the sheets while watching his Dom shuffle back with a bottle of lotion in hand.

Mike sighs, stretches his muscles as best he can, and tries to concentrate on the pleasure that a good massage brings. Although it takes longer and isn’t half as intense, Mike can usually drift into Subspace from a long and thorough massage.

Harvey uncaps the lotion and begins warming it between his hands. He kneels on either side of Mike’s hips and smoothes it up and down over the taut muscles of his back and shoulders.

After a while Mike starts to, if not recover from the desperation of his craving, at least submit to his inability to do anything but accept the care his Dom is willing to offer. The lip-biting, itching under the skin panic is ebbing away with each firm press of Harvey’s hands.

“How do you feel?” Harvey asks softly. “Better?”

Mike grunts and nods his head. He tries to open his eyes but they’re watery and even the minimal light from outside the windows burns. Harvey takes this as enough encouragement to continue with the calculated determination of a Dom who has found what his Sub needs and will pursue his task with vigor. He situates himself more evenly over Mike, cracks his knuckles, rolls his neck and shoulders and then presses back in with purpose.

“Tell me where it’s the worst,” he asks. “The tension.”

Mike blinks a few times before answering in a voice that seems much too loud in the silence, “My shoulders.”

Harvey runs his hands firmly up Mike back until he has his shoulders in each hand. He pulls them back and together until they pop, and then pushes down and in. With all ten fingers he starts at the angular outside points and then strokes in with firm strokes until he’s pressing into his spine. Mike sighs. This Harvey does twice more before stopping suddenly and sitting back.

“Mike.”

He hums.

“Your neck is red.”

Mike hums again, not quite processing the concern in Harvey’s voice.

“Mike, has your collar been irritating you?” He reaches forward and pushes gently to uncover the skin beneath. As if snapped out of a trance, Mike comes to full awareness with startling and vivid clarity. His eyes fly open, his mouth goes dry, and his pulse quickens in panic at being tied up and helpless to escape Harvey’s curious ministrations.

He wiggles violently and shakes his head until Harvey releases his grip with alarm.

“Mike, calm down.” He says, startled. 

“Untie me.”

“No. You need to calm down and tell me what’s going on.”

Mike pants as if he’s been sprinting and stills just long enough to think of what to do. His brain, however, isn’t working right and before he has time to come up with a plan, Harvey is pushing him firmly into the bed with his body and hands and leaning up to whisper in his ear.

“Shhhh. Relax, baby. Calm down.” He runs hands soothingly over Mike’s skin. “When you’ve caught your breath and stopped struggling we’re going to talk about why you’re reacting like this.”

Mike gives one last panicked shake to test Harvey’s grip, but he barely moves at all and earns for his effort only a firm hand around his throat.

“I told you to calm down, Mike,” Harvey says more forcefully. “I can’t help you if you don’t relax and talk to me.”

Mike’s foggy brain clears just enough to process that he’s being restrained. That he’s helpless and facing the inevitability of revealing what is nothing less than an egregious personal neglect and deception. Regardless, Harvey isn’t yelling. He seems calm and understanding in his forcefulness, like a rider taming a skittish horse. Mike unknits his tensed muscles reluctantly.

“Are you ready to talk to me?”

Mike nods.

“I want absolute truth, Mike. No exceptions. Understood?”

“Okay.”

“Why are you panicking?”

Mike licks him lips. “I’m afraid.”

“What are you afraid of?”

“I don’t want you to take my collar off.”

“Okay. It stays on until we’re done talking. Your neck looks irritated. Did you know there was a problem?”

Mike doesn’t say or do anything.

“If you don’t want to talk to me I’ll have to take it off and look for myself. I’m not letting this fester any longer. What’s it going to be?”

Mike says nothing.

“You have ten second to speak up or it’s coming off.”

Mike opens his mouth and then closes it again. This shouldn’t be so hard, but it is. A deep dormant fear rears to life and overwhelms Mike’s already crowded mind. He shivers with the increasingly irrational phobia of being uncollared again. Of being abandoned and alone. Through the irritatingly persistent smoke screen of craving and the crashing effect of slipping in and out of subspace, Mike is overwhelmed with dread, melancholy and fear. He shakes his head to dislodge the feeling but only succeeds in making Harvey tighten the grip around his throat.

“You’re out of time, Mike. We’re dealing with this.” He presses Mike’s forehead into the pillow and fumbles around until he finds the delicate metal clasp. His forearm is now resting under Mike’s windpipe. Not nearly enough to threaten his breathing, but enough to make him feel lightheaded.

“Subpeona,” he croaks.

Harvey stills. When he doesn’t immediately release him, Mike gathers up his energy and shouts it. “Subpeona!”

Like a punch in the gut, Harvey releases him and falls ungracefully back on Mike’s hips. With the return of his range of motion Mike starts pulling at his constraints, trying to get his fingers around the velcro fasteners. Harvey scurries off the bed and goes to rip the cuffs from his ankles. Mike scurries up the bed until he’s kneeling over his bound wrists. Harvey appears at his side to remove them with the same quick efficiency. As soon as he’s unbound Mike holds his wrists together, brings his knees to his chest, closes his eyes and takes what feels like the first deep breath of his life. 

His ears are buzzing and his skin feels ice cold. If he were standing he’d fall over. He’s disoriented and everything, even the bed he kneels on, seems unbalanced - so much so that he starts to feel sick. He blinks to clear the fuzziness and then stares at the bathroom door. Within seconds his vision blurs and his stomach lurches.

“Harvey.”

His Dom steps out of the shadows where he’d been watching from the wall. Mike starts to crawl off the bed, but Harvey rushes forward.

“I’m going to be sick.

Harvey crouches down so he’s in Mike’s line of sight. “Nod for me if I have permission to touch you.” He sounds calm and sweet and in control. Mike nods.

With permission, Harvey puts a hand softly on Mike’s back and another around his side, then leads him to the bathroom where Mike wastes no time ridding himself of his dinner. As soon as he feels well enough he falls against the edge of the bathtub and presses his cheek to the tile. He looks up when he feels a cool washcloth against his forehead.

Harvey smiles at him. He takes Mike’s hand and uses it to hold the towel in place, then begins filling a water glass.

“I’ve never felt like that before,” Mike says. “I can’t explain it.”

Harvey holds the glass to his lips. “You had a panic attack,” he explains gently. Mike would normally protest the somewhat patronizing tone, but instead he finds it soothing and safe. He licks his lip and puts the washcloth down by his leg. 

“I think my neck is infected,” he says, the confession suddenly easy to make. The blind stupid sense of claustrophobia is gone and Mike feels only resignation.

Harvey doesn’t even flinch. “Okay. Why do you think it’s infected?”

“Last time I looked it was bleeding a little.”

He nods. “That could just be chaffing. When was this?”

Mike thinks. “Three days ago.”

“Have you been feeling any pain?”

Mike nods slowly. “It’s been hurting for a couple weeks.”

Harvey’s face twitches as if holding back some unpleasant reaction with every fibre of his self-control. Finally he exhales and says - “Okay. You have three options.” He holds up a finger. “We can remove the collar so I can take a look at your neck. If it’s infected then I need to call the hotel doctor to take a look. You might need some medication. If it’s only chaffed, I’ll bandage it up and reassess things when we get home." Harvey runs a hand up and down Mike's shin as he talks. “Option two,” he holds up another finger this time, “I can bring you down to the hotel’s medical offices and let them take a look. I don’t even have to be in the room. Or, option three - if you feel uncomfortable with any of those scenarios, I’m going to step out and have you wash it as best you can, put a bandage under the collar so it doesn’t worsen, and we’ll deal with this when we return to New York.”

Mike exhales. "I'm sorry I freaked out. I wasn't thinking straight."

"That's okay, Mike. There’s nothing to apologize for.”

Mike nods and then with shaky arms lifts himself up off the floor. Harvey helps him and together they deposit him on the bathroom stool. He turns his back to his Dom and looks over his shoulder. "Sometimes it hurts coming off."

Harvey gulps and nods. "I'm going to get some stuff from the first aid kit."

Mike watches while Harvey opens the kit and begins laying out bandages, antiseptic, cotton and even a pair of tweezers. He cringes. Harvey fills up a cup with warm water and then turns back to Mike. He gently pulls Mike’s hair up and fastens it with a small tie.

"Do you want me to take off the collar, or would you like to do it?”

Mike gulps, feeling ridiculous and over sensitive and weak. God, he’s got to get over this. 

“You.”

Harvey places a hand on his arm and leans in to kiss him gently where collar meets shoulder. Then, reaching around to the front he takes the clasp between two fingers and presses firmly until the latch disengages and the two halves fall open. Mike exhales despite himself.

Carefully, Harvey pulls the soft but stiff leather open over Mike’s throat, exposing the visibly paling skin and texture variation beneath. When he has it open over his throat, but still touching the back of his neck, Harvey takes a damp cloth and with quick efficiency peels the collar away from it’s sticky cling to the underlying wounds and replaces the collar immediately with the cloth. Mike hisses in pain.

“Shhhhh. I’ve got you.” Harvey holds his hand firmly to Mike’s neck and then reaches around to place the collar in his hands. “I want you to hold on tight to this, okay?”

Mike nods. “Okay.” When the collar is in his grasp he glances down to see what looks like a layer of sticky skin stuck to the underside. Feeling sick again, he holds it firmly between his fingers, looks away, and bites his tongue when Harvey finally peels back the cloth. He holds his breath, expecting to be scolded or at the very least suffer through some emotional reaction that would pepper him with guilt. Instead, Harvey puts a hand on his shoulder and strokes him along his collar line while ripping open one of those sterilized cleaning pads with his teeth.

Mike looks over his shoulder. “Is it infected?”

Harvey just keeps stroking him. “Let’s just worry about cleaning it for now and we’ll talk to the doctor later.”

“Can’t it wait until he get to New York?”

Harvey removes his hand just long enough to pour more antiseptic on the pad, then, with careful and cautious movements, presses the pad into his skin. Mike clenches his teeth and groans.

“Mike, I don’t want to scare you, but this is much worse than you thought. I’ll do whatever you need to make you feel safe, but I can’t let this go without medical attention.” He looks firm but still remarkably calm and gentle. “I’d insist the same thing of any colleague, friend or stranger.”

He nods reluctantly, feeling resigned and too tired to care. Besides, if it really is as bad as Harvey says, then he’s lost the right to brush it under the rug. He’s already neglected enough of his personal safety just letting it get this far. Besides, if Harvey says he’ll keep him safe, then he will.

“Yeah, okay.”

“Good boy.”

 

The doctor is a small balding Dom with a black mustache and stern expression. Mike sits on the couch wrapped in a robe while Harvey talks to the translator. He’s standing behind the couch with one hand firmly on Mike shoulder while the doctor insistently pushes down on his head while poking, prodding and mumbling insistently. The translator is a dark-skinned Sub with long hair piled neatly atop her head. Despite looking half-awake she is clean pressed and professional.

“If I’d known sooner I would have had it looked at, but my Sub is…” he looks down at Mike apologetically, “still learning about communication.”

The woman translates Harvey’s defense to the doctor. He hums flatly in response while pressing a cotton ball into the wound. Mike groans miserably.

“Does he have to be so rough?” Harvey complains.

“The wound has to be cleaned thoroughly,” she says with a heavy accent. The doctor rattles off something else. “And it needs draining. That can be done at the medical wing.”

“Harvey,” Mike says with a quiver. “Are they talking about surgery?”

“No, not really. Merely a very thorough cleaning,” the Sub says with a nod. “Local anesthesia only if you wish it, sir.”

“Of course I wish it,” Harvey snarls.

“Harvey, I don’t want to do this here.” He tries to turn and look behind him, but the doctor grips him by the hair and pushes his head back down.

“Please tell him not to man-handle my Sub.”

The woman relays the message hesitantly and submissively. The doctor barks something back.

“What did he say?” Harvey demands. His patience has been slipping ever since the doctor arrived.

“He says,” she starts slowly, “he reminds you, sir, that in cases of neglect you are wise to be more respectful.”

Mike’s breath hitches and he tries to pull away, but the doctor has him by the hair. Harvey wraps a hand around Mike’s arm and squeezes tight enough to hurt. Although, in this case it’s less about control, and more about claim.

“Neglect? For fuck’s sake, I had a doctor here within twenty minutes of learning of the problem.”

“This type of infection takes many weeks to develop.”

“He didn’t tell me!” Harvey snaps. Mike cringes.

“Sir, in Italy collared Subs are the legal responsibility of their Dom.”

“I understand that,” he says wearily. “Please explain that Mike is a new Sub, not just for me but in general. I have to approach things much more delicately than with most.”

Mike sniffs back tears, humiliated at being talked about like he’s not here.

“How is he new?” she protests. “He says he is 27 years old.”

“It’s complicated.”

The doctor grumbles unhappily while smearing something over his neck with three-fingered strokes. He points to Mike’s neck, one unclipped nail digging into his skin while saying something angrily to the translator.

Harvey holds Mike even tighter. 

“He believes your Sub has developed lymphangitis.”

“What does that mean?” Harvey sounds unglued. Scared.

“It’s a rather serious complication that infects the surrounding lymph nodes. It requires hospitalized care. He needs to check the Sub’s temperature to confirm.”

“Fuck.”

The doctor finally lets go of Mike’s hair. Mike gets up off the couch and hurries into Harvey’s arms, shivering.

“You’ll come with me, right?”

“Of course.”

Mike relaxes marginally into his embrace, but the fear lingers.

“The doctor huffs and points to them. His gestures are erratic and forceful.

“Are you aware of Italy’s 72 hour medical protection law?”

As soon as the words leave her mouth Mike remembers like a freight train ramming into his memory. He freezes, his blood running cold. It’s a little known law that he’d read about years ago while researching Sub safety reform in Europe. At the time he’d been largely in favor despite the controversy over Sub freedom of self and choice. Italy is still one of the strictest countries when it comes to collared Sub rights. Their legal status is no better than a child’s. Being collared in Italy isn’t just a sign of commitment between partners, it’s a legally binding contract, one that dramatically alters a Sub’s rights, responsibilities and protections. For most Sub’s it’s a desired and beneficial change. One they anticipate and look forward to with pleasure. 

Yes, Mike had been in favor of the law, but at the moment, it fills him with terror.

“I’m afraid I don’t,” Harvey says stiffly.

“I do,” Mike whispers. Harvey looks down at him, sees the fear in his eyes and pulls him in so tight Mike wouldn’t be able to break away if he tried. 

“In Italy,” the translator continues, “if a medical professional finds evidence of life threatening neglect or abuse they are required to hold the Sub for treatment and counseling for 72 hours. At the end of that time the Sub has the option to press legal charges, or return to their Dom. In this case, the doctor feels the wound, although small, was left untreated for too long and has threatened the safety of the Sub.”

“You can’t be serious.”

“I’m entirely serious, sir. We are very proud of our safety reforms. We have some of the lowest statistics of fatal abuse in the world.”

That’s true, Mike thinks miserably. 

“Fatal abuse? I haven’t abused my Sub.”

“I wasn’t implying that you have. I’m merely stating the facts.”

“I’m a United State’s citizen,” Harvey says. “And I’m a lawyer. A very influential one. If you force the issue I’ll bring this to my embassy.”

The doctor and translator both smile. Clearly Harvey’s threat is clear whether or not the words are. “You can try, sir. You wouldn’t be the first. But I think you’ll find your efforts are fruitless. I suggest you wait the 72 hours. If your Sub wants to return you’ll both be free to leave the country.”

“Harvey isn’t abusing me,” Mike says angrily. “I hid it from him. Why don’t you fucking understand that? I just want to go home.”

The doctor doesn’t even glance at him. He just reaches into his bag and pulls out a pair of tough looking medical cuffs. The translator looks at him with something akin to sympathy, but her resolve is not shaken. “I’m sorry. It’s only a few days. Besides, you would need to come with us for medical treatment, with or without your Dom.”

The doctor walks over to them, still clasped together, and glares at Harvey with more dominant challenge than Mike has ever seen. He can feel the power struggle raging.

“I’m not going with you,” Mike protests when the Sub steps forward to reach for his wrists.

“If you fight us you’ll be taken by force. This is a legal matter, do you understand?”

“I’m a fucking lawyer too,” Mike spits. “Don’t treat me like an idiot.”

She raises her eyebrow, her hand unwavering from it’s out turned position. “Good. Than you know that this is beyond you, Sub. Please give me your hands.”

“I have a name.”

She blinks, clearly controlling an eye roll. “Mike.”

“You’re a Sub too,” Mike says. “You wear a collar. How would you feel if you were forced to do something against your will?”

She doesn’t even hesitate before answering - “I know my place in this world, Mike. You would do well to learn your own.”

The words steal Mike’s breath.

“Hands.”

Mike looks up shakily at Harvey. He’s pale and his eyes are twitching - a sure sign that his brain is working on overload.

“Stay as close as they’ll let you,” Mike says. Harvey looks down at him mournfully. “And when the 72 hours are up, be waiting for me.”

“Mike, no.” He turns him and grips him by the arms. “Let me think,” he pleads, eyes clenched shut. “Let me think for another minute and I’ll… let me think if there’s something…”

“Harvey. I’m going to go now. Okay? I got myself into this. Just promise you’ll be waiting.”

Harvey’s eyes widen and his hands fumble when Mike passes him the collar he’d been clutching. Before Harvey has time to grab at him again, and before Mike loses his nerve, he breaks away and offers up his wrists. 

The doctor steps forward with a nod and attaches the cuffs. With a little round key he locks them in place and then drops it into his shirt pocket. He pats Mike’s cheek and grins. 

“Bravo ragazzo.”

Mike looks to the translator. 

“He says you’re a good boy.”

Mike glares at him. “I’m not good. I’m angry.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _DISCLAIMER: I am not a medical professional, so please be gentle with me if you find here, or in any future chapters, issues with medical accuracy. Having said that, I am always happy to learn new things so feel free to drop me a message._
> 
>  
> 
> _Thank you, as always, for reading!_


	12. Chapter 12

Mike lies on an under-padded hospital bed staring at the glow of a reading lamp on the other side of his pastel colored curtain. His cheeks are sticky from tears and his right wrist and both ankles are shackled to the bed rails. He’s starting to get a cramp in his lower back, but he can’t roll over without enduring the awkward and uncomfortable strain of sleeping with one arm stretched behind him. He feels like a criminal.

When they brought him to the hotel’s not insignificant medical wing and tried to cuff his feet together Mike gave the nurse a firm kick in the gut. This, of course, was a terrible idea that earned him a shot of something that stung and knocked him out for several hours. When he woke he was tied up anyway and his head has been pounding ever since. He should be glad at least that he was unconscious for the ‘cleaning’ of his neck. There’s a dull numbness under his hairline and a thick white bandage wrapped all the way around and over his throat. The translator reappeared just over an hour ago to explain to him his ‘situation’. Apparently the wound was less severe than they’d feared, but no less serious. He learned that the symptoms he’d experienced the previous evening, including the sudden onset of Subspace withdrawal had likely been, in part, a side effect of the infection. That, at least, was somewhat reassuring. With a few bandage changes, some strong ointment and a little green pill, he’d be as good as new in a week or two. 

However, when he once again tried to convince them of Harvey’s innocence and their cruelty in keeping them apart, they patted Mike on his shackled hand and told him to be a good brave boy and stop complaining. In response he told them all to go to hell.

Mike sniffs miserably and stares up at the white tiled ceiling. It’s almost five PM, which means he’s been away from Harvey for over twelve hours. At least that’s something. Maybe if he keeps kicking nurses he’ll get a steady dose of unconscious and the 72 hours will be up in no time.

Suddenly the curtain pulls aside and a new nurse walks in holding a tray of food. He’s a large Dom with sleeves rolled up over his muscled arm. Mike rolls his eyes. Yeah, he can kick this guy all he wants and barely make a dent.

He drops the tray unceremoniously on the rolling table and ignores Mike completely while flipping through something on a computer screen attached to the wall. With a grunt the nurse pulls a thermometer out of a drawer and begins cleaning it.

“Do you speak English?” Mike asks with feigned sweetness.

The nurse stares down at him in surprise. They must have reported a much different attitude.

“Yes. A little.”

Mike smiles. “If that’s an anal thermometer and you come anywhere near me with it, I’ll fucking bite you.”

 

 

When you’re left alone and shackled to a bed with nothing to do but watch prime-time Italian television (which Mike quickly finds to be not worth the effort), you have a lot of time to think. You have time to think about your life - what you’ve gained and what you’ve been blessed with. You think about the things you never thought you’d have, and the things you have to look forward to. But you also, despite pounding your head as hard as you can on the pillow to knock the thoughts away, start to think about the things you’ve sacrificed. 

You think about how no one would ever have chained you to a bed when they thought you were a Dom.

“Fuck this shit,” Mike croaks to the ceiling - to God if he’s up there and listening - “If I’d known I’d be such a waste of space I’d have stayed passed out and broke in Brooklyn.” 

“Now if you ask me, that would have been a shame. You’re crass but charming, in a feral way.”

Mike bolts up as best he can and finds Darby smirking at the foot of his bed.

“What are you doing here?” he accuses.

Darby’s eyebrows rise in that posh suggestive manner of his. “You really are much feistier than you ever let on. I just finished listening to the most appalling report.” He looks over his shoulder at a pair of nurses peeking through beyond a far door. “Did you really bite a nurse?”

“Yes,” Mike says through clenched teeth. “He deserved it.”

“I don’t doubt it. But that doesn’t mean you should resort to violence.”

“I’ll do what I want,” Mike snaps. “And you still haven’t told me what you’re doing here, Darby. This is literally the worst day of my life and I’d like to get through it in peace. You are like, the _last_ person I want to see.”

“I’m here to collect you.”

“What?”

“Harvey found what you lawyers like to call, a loophole.”

“What kind of a loophole?”

“One that returns to you your freedom, which, clearly seems to be your preference.” He smirks. “Apparently if a patient is reasonably able to leave medical supervision a proxy guardian may be assigned until the counseling session is complete. As it’s at the discretion of the medical supervisor we thought it would be a long shot, but fortunately your conduct has not endeared you to Doctor Frazoli or his staff. They seem quite happy to part ways. 

“Are you suggesting that Harvey wants me to go with _you_?”

Darby glares at him. 

“I take it Harvey shared with you our complicated past. While I understand your opposition, Mr. Ross, I don’t appreciate the suggestion that I’d do anything to harm you or betray your Dom’s trust. Please remember that you know only part of what happened between Harvey and myself.”

“Sorry.”

Darby looks at his watch and then beckons for a nurse carrying a ring of keys. First she hesitantly uncovers Mike’s feet, which she unlocks quickly so she can jump out of the way of potential kicks, and then unlocks his wrist. Mike stretches and swings his leg over the side of the bed. The hospital gown they gave him is short and open in the back. He wraps his arms around himself self-consciously.

Darby says something in Italian that has the nurse pulling Mike’s pajamas out of a drawer and handing them to him.

“I’m told that you’ll have to return in two days time for a check-up and to see your counselor. You’re advised to check in sooner, of course, if you experience any concerning symptoms. I can trust you to be honest about your condition, can’t I?”

“Yes,” Mike says grumpily.

“Good. After that time you can return to Harvey. He squints again at his watch. “You’ll actually only be parted sixty-eight hours. A generous compromise, I think.” He smiles.

Mike pulls on his pajama pants and then rolls the hospital gown into a ball and tosses it on the bed. The thick hotel robe he left Harvey in is all he has to cover his chest.

“Ready?”

Mike nods. “As I’ll ever be.”

 

 

If Mike thought being cuffed to a hospital bed and threatened with an anal thermometer constituted the worst day of his life, he was sadly mistaken. If he’d had the foresight to consider what going with Darby would actually entail, he would have gladly preferred Bruno sticking him in the butt all day to being _here_.

Mike and Scottie stand scowling at each other in the middle of Darby’s suite. The furnishings are reminiscent of those in his and Harvey’s room, but the size and grandeur is significantly more elaborate.

“Considering the circumstances, Mike will not be expected to adhere to the rules of the house. He’s to be treated as a guest.” Darby pronounces this as if addressing a room full of attentive staff, when in fact, it’s just Mike and Scottie standing awkwardly half-dressed in a hotel living room. “Scottie, you are to treat Mike as you would any friend or colleague of mine, although I expect Mike has no intention of asking you to do anything that would not be appropriate between fellow Subs,” he smiles at Mike. Not knowing what to say, he stammers out a clumsy assurance that he’ll behave appropriately. Scottie chortles.

“If mocking and derision is an example of how you follow my direction, Scottie, I’ll have to reconsider including you in my trip to Paris this spring. And what a shame that would be, the fashion shows are always a highlight.”

Scottie pales noticeably and drops her eyes to the floor. “Please forgive me, sir.”

“Don’t apologize to me.”

Scottie turns to Mike, the veins in her neck bulging with righteous indignation. “I apologize for laughing, Mike. Please forgive my rudeness.”

Mike blinks in disbelief. “Yeah, okay. It’s fine,” he says as kindly as he can muster. But even to his own ears it sounds forced.

“Good,” Darby declares cheerfully. “Why don’t you fetch Mike and me tea.”

Scottie nods and then glides down the hall, nightgown fanning out behind her. Within seconds he can hear the telltale clinking of kitchen preparations.

“Please take a seat, Michael.” Darby points to a chair opposite a love seat. Mike sits, feeling uncomfortable and overexposed in bare feet and a bath robe.

“Questions?” Darby prompts while taking a cigarette out of his shirt pocket.

“Yeah, do you know where Harvey is?”

“Only a half-mile or so down the coast. There’s a nice little hotel that had a last minute cancellation.

“Wait. He’s not at Roissy?”

“The hotel, although very discreet, has a no tolerance policy when it comes to Sub endangerment.”

“For fuck’s sake, he didn’t endanger me!” Mike says with exasperation. “I endangered me! Why does no one understand that?”

Darby’s eyebrows rise. “Michael, I know I said you’d be treated as a guest, but I do expect you to control your temper and behave with some restraint.” He taps his cigarette into an ashtray. “Does Harvey let you use such language?”

Mike huffs and controls the urge to tell the man to mind his own business. “No.”

“Between you and me, let’s just say that the manners you exhibit with your Dom should also be observed with me. We only have to spend two days and nights together, so let’s try to make it a tolerable experience.” He exhales and looks at Mike with a smirk. “After all, we will still have to work together. Isn’t that right?”

Mike’s eyes widen. “Harvey told you?”

“Yes, we had a long chat about it today, but I knew before we first met. Scottie is very loyal and generous with her information. When she saw you in New York you were masquerading as Harvey’s dominant employee. Is that correct?”

Mike shrinks. “His associate. And I’m only masquerading as a Dom,” he defends, “I really am his associate.” Although that too is technically a falsehood, Mike doesn’t think Darby needs to know _everything_.

“Harvey filled in the details. He assures me you’re the best young lawyer at the firm.”

Mike perks up. “I am.”

“Well then, work hard and I won’t judge your choices. Pearson Hardman needs to join the twenty-first century sooner or later.” He gestures toward Scottie in the kitchen. “Two out of ten employees at her firm in London are Sub and they have some of the highest caliber clients in Europe.”

Just then Scottie comes back in carrying a pretty silver tray with a full tea service. She sets it down on the table between Darby and him, and then folds herself elegantly to her knees to begin prepping. First she pours two cups of steaming black tea that smell of cloves and chocolate. Then, she pours a dash of milk and adds two cubes of sugar. She looks up at Mike.

“How do you take yours?”

Mike can feel the negativity fizzling around her, but is impressed by her constraint. She waits for his response without looking impatient, bored or irritated.

“Milk and sugar, please.”

“How many?

“Three is good.”

She nods, completes both cups, and then places them each in easy reach of their recipient.

“Scottie is not allowed to drink black tea,” Darby says to Mike. “It does terrible things to her nerves.” He touches the top of her head. “But you may make yourself an herbal if you’d like, love.”

She nods and then begins preparing something from a pot of sweet smelling floral blend.

“It’s quite late, Mike. I know you’ve been sleeping throughout the day but I’ll assume the stress has exhausted you regardless.”

It’s true. He is tired.

“Fortunately for you this suite has two bedrooms. I’d hate to see you on the couch.”

“Thank you”

“When Scottie has finished her drink I think she’d be more than happy to set out toiletries for you and turn down your bed.”

“Yes, sir,” Scottie says.

Mike tries not to let his jaw drop. If it were him, he’d sooner bite the bitch than make up a bed for her. He can’t imagine she feels all that differently and yet she obeys without complaint or any visible signs of annoyance. 

The strict but comfortable domesticity of the couple is so different from what he’d imagined.

Darby, who had been flipping through his phone idly, suddenly announces - “I forgot to tell you. Marcus called a few hours ago.”

Scottie perks up and smiles. Her genuine happiness makes her eyes glow and her cheeks pink.

“He’s doing fine. As is Emily.”

“Did you ask about her date?”

Darby nods. “Of course, but you should telephone her tomorrow and inquire. I’m sure she’s itching to share.”

Scottie’s smile remains as she finishes drinking her tea and stares down at her lap, clearly thinking of these mysterious friends. Finally, she stands and goes to make up Mike’s room. 

“Why don’t you go assist her?” Darby suggests. 

Mike must still look pretty put out as he climbs unwilling from his chair and starts shuffling toward the bedroom. As he passes, Darby reaches out and grabs his hand.

“You might not believe this, but Scottie is not the jealous type. I understand what’s causing this animosity between you, but let me just remind you that you are only one half of the equation. Be kind and forgiving and I think you’ll find yourself with less to worry about. It does you no good to hate something you don’t understand.”

“We’re not going to be friends, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

“I’m merely proposing a truce. You two have much in common and less to despise each other for than you think.”

 

 

Scottie jumps in alarm as she’s coming out of the en-suite bathroom where she’d been busy laying out Mike’s antibiotics and gauze, a toothbrush, toothpaste, washcloth, wrapped bar of soap, and even a small tube of deodorant in a neat and meticulous line.

“Shit. You scared me.”

“Darby told me to come help you,” Mike says dryly.

“Yeah, well. I don’t need any help.”

“Fine. But to be honest I don’t really need your help either. Thanks just the same, but I’m perfectly capable of turning down my own bed.”

Scottie scowls at him while gently piling the bed pillows at the foot of the bed. “I don’t know about you, but I don’t make a habit of disobeying my Dom’s direct orders.”

" _Orders_?”

“Yes,” she spits. “And if you’d left me alone I could have finished in peace.”

“It’s not like I _want_ to be in here _chatting_ with you.” Mike grabs a pillow from her and tosses it haphazardly on the ground. “Seriously. Just let me do it.”

Scottie stares at him open mouthed. “Don’t tell me what to do! Just because I have to treat you like a _guest_ doesn't mean I have to treat you like a Dom.”

Mike grabs another pillow from her. “Yeah, I almost forgot to thank you for ratting me out.”

“I don’t keep anything from Eddy,” she snaps.

“Good. Then I’m sure he wouldn’t be surprised to learn that you were out in New York, collarless and hunting Doms like a common whore.”

Scottie looks up at him, her face pale as a sheet and her eyes blazing. Before Mike has time to apologize for his indelicate comment there’s a fist flying at his face. He dodges it just in time, but doesn’t escape another that lands hard in his belly.

“Fuck!” He shouts. She lands on top of him, knees on either side of his hips, her face wild. Her fists are flying, but Mike manages to grab a thin wrist in each hand and hold her off. “Get off me!”

Suddenly Scottie is pulled away by a livid looking Darby. 

“She fucking attacked me!” Mike defends, crawling quickly to his feet and then stepping as far back as he can to escape Darby’s murderous glare. Scottie is crying at his feet.

“You stay there,” he commands before lifting Scottie off the floor by the hand and dragging her out.

Mike watches them go. As soon as he hears another bedroom door slam shut, he rubs a hand down his face. Fuck! How is this his life? With resignation he pushes the rest of the pillows off the bed until they fall in a messy heap. He tosses his robe on the floor and crawls under the covers.

He’s not hiding.

Well, he’s hiding a little bit.

Suddenly he hears the telltale yelp and slap of someone being spanked. Probably with a paddle, judging by the sound. Through the surprisingly thin wall separating this bedroom and the next, the sounds are uncomfortably loud. Mike sits up to listen, feeling wretched. A series of ten strikes sound in evenly spaced crescendo while Scottie’s cries become, first more controlled and then conclude with a painful scream. The silence that follows is deafening and terrifyingly ominous. Mike glances at the door and sees the unfastened lock.

He could try to lock Darby out but if he wants to come in, he’ll find a way.

Mike sits up in bed with his arms around his knees, waiting.

It takes much longer than Mike expected for a knock to come on the door. Twenty minutes at least.

“Come in.”

Darby opens the door and walks in calmly. He shuts it behind him and then turns to looks at Mike with both hands folded in front of him like a disappointed schoolteacher.

”If you want to hit me around a little, go ahead.” Mike says. “I don’t even care at this point.”

“As much as I’d love to encourage a little discipline in you Michael, I would never do Harvey the dishonor.”

Mike exhales in relief.

“But that doesn’t mean I’m going to allow you to cause trouble in my family. You’ve lost the privilege of being treated as a guest. You obviously cannot handle your emotions and mind your manners, so as far as I’m concerned, you cannot be trusted to make your own decisions. When you reunite with Harvey you can return to your previous set of rules and expectations, but while you’re with me you will obey me or else I’ll send you back to the medical ward. I’m sure they have a bed they can chain you to for the next 48 hours.”

“Yes, sir.” 

“I planned to let you sleep in, be waited on and generally do what you like with your time. That’s no longer permitted. You will wake up at six-thirty, get dressed, shower, and be ready to help Scottie prepare breakfast at seven. You’ll help her with anything she needs assistance with. Understood?”

Mike’s eyes widen. “Make breakfast? With _Scottie_? Aren’t there services to do that stuff? It’s, like, a resort.”

“Don’t argue with me, Michael, my patience with you is very thin.”

“Sorry.”

“When, and _if_ , you’ve completed that task I will meet with you again to discuss instructions for the rest of the day. If you impress me, which I doubt, I’ll consider giving you time to rest. If, however, you fail to meet my standards, you’ll face a much longer and more strenuous day than you can ever imagine. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good.” He exhales, his entire body and the tension he’d been carrying uncurling from his frame. “You can go apologize to Scottie and then feel free to sleep.” He looks at his watch. “You have less than six hours so I suggest you be as sincere as possible.”

“Apologize?” Mike whines. “She hit me!”

“You sound like a petulant child. Now get up before I drag you out of that bed.”

Mike crawls out and thrust his arms into the bathrobe he’d left beside the bed, then follows Darby into the next bedroom. Mike is still scowling when he turns the corner, but the sight he’s confronted with stops him cold.

Scottie is kneeling in the middle of the floor, completely naked and maintaining such a perfect posture it startles Mike. Despite the dampness in her eyes, soft tremble of her lip, and the rosy color creeping around her hips and lower back from a thorough spanking - she looks completely in control. It’s as if she hadn’t moved an inch from position since Darby put her there what must have been over a half hour ago.

She looks up at Mike with more remorse than he usually gives _Harvey_ when he’s misbehaved.

“Please forgive me, Mike. I should never have reacted so aggressively. I hope I didn’t hurt you.”

Mike stares at her, slack jawed, and then glances at Darby who looks stern but pleased.

“Yeah, well. I’m sorry too.” The apology sounds pathetically weak so he tries again. “I shouldn’t have provoked you. I’m really sorry. I…” he swallows bitter spit. “I should never have said that stuff about you. I guess I don’t really know you at all.”

She nods in acknowledgment and then looks to Darby. Mike follows her gaze.

“Good, girl. Release.”

Scottie’s body relaxes and her eyes roll shut. She falls to one hip and wraps her arms around to cover herself. She shivers a few times as if cold, and then relaxes.

“Thank you, Michael. That was quite satisfactory. Please go to bed now.”

Mike nods and backs out of the room. As soon as he’s out of sight he runs into the spare room, shuts the door and dives into bed. With the lights off Mike is hyperaware of the disquieting silence in the room next to him.

_Who are these people? And what the hell did he get himself into?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Now, don't get too used to quick updates, they might be just a few days slower from now on. I'm running low on pre-written and betaed chapters. But I just couldn't hold this one back any longer - you guys were suffering too much and I was WAY too excited about hitting you with this particular plot twist!_
> 
> _I'm not sure if I need to apologize for this or not - (I am SO not sorry) - but, if you feel the need to yell at me or whatever, feel free to do so ;)_


	13. Chapter 13

At the first crack of dawn Mike opens his eyes and realizes that he isn’t in his own bed, nor Harvey’s bed at Roissy, nor the horrible hospital cot. The only remaining explanation gives him an instant headache. He rolls onto his back, throws an arm over his eyes and groans. Scottie. He has to work with _Scottie._

Suddenly remembering Darby’s instruction, Mike sits up and looks around until he finds a dully glowing digital clock on the bedroom television.

6:52. Throwing the covers off Mike dashes out of bed. “Shit, shit, shit.” Running a hand through his hair he recalls, even through his hazy morning fog, what he’s supposed to do before seven.

Bed. Shower. Clothes. Breakfast.

Mike turns back to the rumpled mess of a bed - a bed that would have been somewhat neat if he hadn’t fought Scottie for dominance of the pillows. With the quickest and most efficient movements he can manage, Mike tosses the covers up, smoothes them perfunctorily and then lays the pillows in what he hopes looks like order. The sheets are sticking out at the corners but it’ll have to do.

Wasting no time, Mike unwraps the bandages around his neck, as per the doctor’s instruction and throws himself into the shower where he cleans himself as if running a marathon. He massages medicinal cream into the now dry and healing wound and fastens a fresh bandage on with as much care as he can manage - if Darby questions him, he can always blame it on this. Surely medical bullshit can excuse at least _some_ of his tardiness. It always worked in high school.

By the time he’s brushed his teeth while simultaneously combing out his hair, thrown on his clothes, and caught his breath so he doesn’t look as guilty as he feels. It’s already 7:15.

Fuck.

Mike hurries out of the bedroom, but is careful to shut the door quietly behind him. Darby’s door is closed, thank god. At the end of the hall a light shines from the kitchen and Mike can hear the faint tinkling of someone cooking. Deciding a guilty countenance will serve him best with a Sub who recently got whipped on his behalf, Mike shuffles down the hall and into the kitchen where he turns the corner looking as small and sorry as possible.

Standing behind a small island, Scottie is whisking something in a white porcelain bowl. She looks up and startles, dropping the whisk on the floor with a splatter.

“Shit,” Mike exclaims, rushing forward. “I didn't mean to scare you.”

“It’s fine,” she snaps. Mike kneels down beside her with a paper towel to wipe at what looks like scrambled egg. “There,” he says. “No harm done.”

She huffs and hands him another damp towel. “That’s raw egg, you have to disinfect it.”

Mike rolls his eyes before looking up with a smile and taking the cloth.

“You know,” Scottie says as she steps away, “if you’re trying to keep me from telling Eddy you were late, you’re dreaming.” She slips her feet into a pair of simple black ballet flats and zips up the hoodie she’d been wearing open over her bra and pajama pants. Clearly she didn’t think Mike was going to show.

Mike clenches his teeth. “I was trying to be nice.” He throws the towel into the trash bin a little too aggressively and stands up to glare at her. “So, why don’t you have to be dressed and ready? I would have been on time too if I’d just crawled out of bed.”

Scottie comes back to the bowl with a freshly rinsed whisk, pours in a drizzle of cream, a few shakes of salt, and continues mixing.

“I’m not being punished.”

The idea that Darby might be _punishing_ Mike, even inadvertently, makes him hot with humiliation and indignation.

“It didn’t look like that last night,” Mike says under his breath.

Scottie looks up at him without even a twitch of anger. “Are you expecting me to be ashamed about that?”

“I guess not.”

“At least I know where I stand with my Dom.” She sets the whisk down and the bowl aside, then starts cleaning the counter methodically to make room for the next task. “I remember how exhausting it was. Never knowing how Harvey wanted me to behave. One week I’d mouth off and he’d call me spunky. Fun.” Mike’s teeth grind. “And then the next week I’d be whipped for it. His indecisiveness gave me whiplash.” She snorts and then looks up at Mike. “Is he still like that?”

Mike is practically biting through his tongue he’s so angry. Not only because Scottie has the gall to stand there and talk about Harvey, _his_ Harvey, but because she’s so disturbingly _right_.

“I don’t want to talk about this,” Mike says gravely. “I just want to get through the next two days without another episode like last night. Believe it or not, I’d rather deal with _you_ than stay chained to a hospital bed.”

“Sorry. I didn’t know it was such a touchy subject.” Her smirk is so infuriating, Mike can feel his blood boiling and his defensive instincts flaring. But before he snaps again, Mike makes a decision - What was it Darby had said? Something about an olive branch? Well, it couldn’t hurt. At this point, getting through the next two days is about survival, even at the expense of his dignity.

Mike walks around to the other side of the island where Scottie has just started dipping pieces of thick Italian bread into the egg. Mike picks up the bowl of mixed spices and sets out a plate. Scottie looks over at him with suspicion. He just holds up the plate until she gets the idea and drops the soaked bread with a plop. He sprinkles on the spices and waits for the next piece.

“Thanks,” she says quietly.

“No problem.”

Later, when they’re both standing over a griddle, Mike flipping and Scottie moving the bread on and off, Mike clears his throat and says, “I’m not going to tell Darby about New York.”

She looks up at him silently and then back to the griddle.

“Are you trying to bargain with me?”

“No,” Mike says. “I’m just letting you know that I’m not here to cause you trouble.”

She lays the last piece of bread on the skillet. It sizzles. “Oh. Well, thank you.” Her tone is sincere. Grateful even.

 

 

By the time Darby puts down his fork and wipes his mouth methodically of powdered sugar and maple syrup, Mike and Scottie have been finished for over ten minutes. Scottie has been waiting patiently with her hands folded in her lap, her eyes following Darby’s movements with concentration, looking for something, anything, she might be able to assist with. Twice she’d leaped up to clean spilt coffee or brush away sugar from Darby’s suit sleeve. Mike, on the other hand, has been pushing his last few slices of unwanted bread around a pool of sticky brown syrup.

“That was lovely, you two. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, sir.” Scottie says with a pleased smile. 

Mike shrugs when Darby looks at him with a raised eyebrow. “I didn’t do much,” he says.

Setting his napkin down, Darby lets his gaze shift slowly to his Sub. “Did you find Mike helpful in preparing the meal, Scottie?”

“Yes,” she replies without hesitation.

“And did he arrive at the appropriate time?”

Mike holds his breath. Scottie glances at him and then back to Darby. “Mike arrived just in time to help with breakfast.”

Darby nods and then turns to Mike. He sits up straighter. “And how did Scottie behave?” Mike looks to her for a reaction but she seems completely unsurprised that her Dom is turning to Mike for a progress report on her behavior. “We had a long talk last night about avoiding conflict. Would you say the lesson made an impact?” Mike nearly snorts at the double-entendre. Out of the corner of his eyes he catches Scottie’s shoulders slump and her eyes drop. 

“Sure. She was fine,” Mike says instead of what he meant to say - that she was just as much of an insensitive bitch as usual. “We got along fine.”

Darby nods. “Good.” He looks down at his watch. It’s 8:12, Mike can see it glowing on the microwave. “You’ve both earned some free time. Nap, read, do whatever you like, but be dressed and ready at noon. We’re going to the cinema.”

Scottie stands up with a smile and places a kiss on Darby’s head as she passes behind his chair. “Thank you, sir.”

Mike follows her lead and stands. “Yeah. Thanks.”

Just before Mike has time to make his escape, Darby grabs his hand. “I’m pleased that you two are getting along. Or at the very least I’m pleased that you’ve come to some kind of agreement.” Mike nods and tries to pull away again, but Darby tightens his grip. “But in the future, I expect punctuality. No exceptions. Understood?” Mike’s shoulders slump and he nods guiltily. “Yes, sir.”

“Good. Now go.”

Mike hurries out of the kitchen and down the hall. When he gets to his room he finds Scottie waiting awkwardly in her doorway

She turns to him with a reluctant, almost painful expression. “I just wanted to say thanks.”

“It’s fine. Just returning the favor.”

“Yeah, I know. But still.”

Mike opens his own door, desperate to get on the other side and finally away from Scottie - even if she isn’t being _too_ horrible. “Well. You’re welcome, I guess.”

She nods, smiles so quickly it looks like a twitch, and then disappears into her room. Mike shuts the door and locks it. After a few minutes of contemplation he realizes there really isn’t anything to lock out so he gently turns back the lever.

 

 

Apparently Roissy has a movie theater. Frankly, Mike finds the idea miserable, but he goes along with it because, what else is he going to do? The theatre is laid out as a set of six depressingly cozy loveseats. When they arrive another two couples are already occupying the first row. Darby and Scottie take a couch in the middle. Mike plops down in the back with a depressed huff.

His companions look over their collective shoulders at him. Scottie’s expression is pitying and it makes Mike want to puke.

“You’re welcome to share the seat beside us, Michael,” Darby offers.

Mike folds his arms over his chest, crosses his legs, and shakes his head. “I’m fine here.”

The movie is in Italian with subtitles - a love story. Within ten minutes Mike realizes he picked the worst possible seat in the room. No matter how he tries to ignore it he’s bombarded with the silhouettes of couples. Couples cuddling. Couples petting. Couples kissing. Couples being generally happy together.

When he can’t take it anymore and concludes that his interest in the film is never going to develop, Mike flops down on his back and lets himself be defeated by the battle against tears. By the time the lights come on and Darby walks by to give him a hand up, all evidence of his misery has been wiped away and replaced with a mask of boredom and annoyance - both highly preferable emotions given his situation. He’d rather come across as no better than an unruly teenager than let Harvey’s ex know how miserable he is.

 

 

Mike and Scottie stand awkwardly together in the living room of Darby’s suite at 7:04 waiting to leave for dinner. They were both punctual. Early even. Mike is wearing nice but still conservative eveningwear. It was a little depressing opening up the suitcase Harvey had clearly packed for him - full of all the things Mike had brought to please his Dom, but now can’t do anything with. Even his underwear had been re-folded and re-packed in that obsessive-compulsive manner of Harvey’s.

“Eddy probably had to take a call,” Scottie says with a forced smile.

“That’s okay,” Mike says. “It’s not like I have someplace else to be.”

Scottie sighs and clicks her nails on the tall end table where a large vase of flowers cascade unnecessarily around her. “Are you going to keep complaining about that? Because it’s getting annoying.”

Mike scowls at her. 

Just then Darby steps out of the office looking disheveled. His tie is askew, his collar buttons are undone and his forehead looks slightly damp. He glances at them regretfully and then to his watch. “What a shame. You both look quite picturesque tonight.”

Scottie is wearing a slinky evening gown that cuts all the way down to her naval in the front, exposing the perfect shape of her unsupported breasts. Her dark hair cascades in meticulous curls over one shoulder and her lips are a deep red. She even smells expensive.

Mike, by comparison, is fit company for Olive Garden.

“I’m sorry you two, but I won’t be joining you for dinner. Business is too fragile right now to leave. Even for an hour.”

“Eddy, no!” Scottie says with a disappointed cry. “Please. You can deal with whatever this is later.”

Darby looks at her sternly and then goes to stand in front of a mirror to wipe his balding head with a handkerchief. The look alone must have been warning enough because Scottie shrinks five inches. She leans over to take the sling-backs from her feet and then holds them by the strap. “What should I make? There’s not much. Pasta. Some lettuce, maybe. Tomatoes.”

Darby turns from the mirror. “No, no. I’m not going to spoil your meal. I’m sure you two can entertain each other.”

Mike’s jaw drops.

“You can’t be… you can’t be serious?” Scottie says more gently than she intended.

“No fucking way,” Mike exclaims. “That is not happening.”

Darby’s eyebrow raise. “I don’t remember posing it as a question. This isn’t optional. You two will share a meal, you will be cordial, and you will not, under any circumstances, embarrass me.”

Scottie sighs. “Yes, sir.” Although she’s already putting her shoes back on, Mike isn’t done protesting. _This is NOT happening._

“Listen, I get it, you’re testing me. But up until now I’ve done a stellar job at keeping it together, and if it’s all the same to you I’d like to complete the rest of this prison sentence without losing an eye.”

Scottie glares daggers at him.

“Or causing a broken nose, for that matter. Can’t we please just eat here? I’ll help Scottie cook. Whatever you want. Just don’t send me out in public. My self-control is seriously about to snap and I’d rather not do it where it’s going to get me cuffed in the middle of a dinner service.”

Mike’s little episode of extreme honesty must have frightened Scottie because she’s looking at him like he just grew a second man-eating head. Darby just folds his hands together and smiles.

“Come now. I think you’ll do fine. Behave for Harvey’s sake, if not for mine. You can do that for him, can’t you?”

Mike wants to run over and punch him in his posh face because, of course, that’s the _worst_ thing he could have said to Mike at this moment. 

“Yes,” he confesses through gritted teeth.

“Good. Very good.” Darby goes to the liquor cabinet where he pours himself a cup of something dark. “I’ll even help you along. An assignment, of sorts. When you come back I’ll be expecting you to each have learned a few things about the other. I’ve always found that curiosity breaks the ice quite nicely.”

Mike rolls his eyes. Scottie looks at her Dom like he’s lost his mind.

“I want you to tell me something the other enjoys, something they dislike, something that surprised you, and finally, something you might like to do with them if given the opportunity.”

Mike snorts. “You want me to come back having suddenly decided it might be fun to join a knitting club with your Sub? You can’t be serious.”

“I’m perfectly serious! Now get going. They don’t like it when you arrive after seven thirty. Tell the maître’d that I was detained. I’m sure they’ll be happy to find you appropriate seating.”

With a cautious look in his direction Scottie smooths her hands down her now overly dressed hips and starts toward the door. Darby watches them go like the cat who ate the canary.

 

 

“Listen, I vote we just give each other something to answer your psychotic Dom’s questions with, eat quietly, and then go back early.”

Scottie folds her arms over her chest. “Do you really think starting the evening by calling Eddy psychotic is going to endear you to me?”

“I don’t need you to like me.”

“Good. Because I don’t.”

A waitress comes over hesitantly with a bottle of white wine and pours them each a glass no more than one fourth full. Mike rolls his eyes and then picks up the bottle as soon as she leaves. When Mike had asked for wine he was informed, rather rudely, that without the presence of a Dom he’s not permitted alcohol. Scottie, in turn, reminded the rather affronted looking sommelier who her Dom is and suggested they be served what they ask for. 

It worked. 

They’re sitting at a corner table away from the other couples. Everything from the shitty table to the creaking chairs to the grumpy waitstaff makes it clear they’re merely being tolerated.

“Did we commit some kind of faux-pas I don’t know about?” Mike asks when the waitress spills ice water on his sleeve and doesn’t bother to apologize.

“It’s considered disrespectful to sit at a dinner table at Roissy without a Dom,” Scottie says with a shrug. “Don’t let it bother you. They’re not going to do anything. Eddy is too rich.” She smiles around a sip of wine.

“Disrespectful how? We all need to eat.”

“Well, traditionally in Italy Subs never sit at the table. Even with a Dom it’s frowned upon. In public, a good Sub shouldn’t be anything more than decoration.”

“So it’s like two lap dogs suddenly climbed off the floor and asked to be treated like humans?”

She snorts. “Basically.”

“Fuck this place. I don’t know why I ever thought it would be a good idea to come here.”

“It’s not so bad,” she says. “It’s freeing, in a way.”

Mike shakes his head. “Yeah well, I know all about how free you feel here, thanks for reminding me.”

Scottie pales and sets down her glass. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I’m pretty sure I do.”

The waitress returns just then to take their order. She looks impatient and uncomfortable and is happy to snatch their menus away as soon as possible and move on to the next table.

When Mike looks up at his dinner partner he notices the telltale signs of impending tears.

He rolls his eyes and passes her a napkin. “Hey, calm down. I’m sorry.”

She looks up at him, takes a deep steadying breath and scowls at his offering. “I don’t need anything from you.”

He slaps the napkin on the table. “Fine.” After several tense minutes Mike sits up and decides to move the evening along at a much quicker pace. “Okay, I’ll go first. I enjoy late night talk shows but I hate doing laundry.” He squishes a piece of bread into the dish of oil and vinegar and shoves it in his mouth. “It’s a good thing I live with Harvey cause he has all that stuff sent out.”

Scottie watches him chew with apparent disgust. “That doesn’t surprise me. I wouldn’t trust you with my clothes either.”

Mike frowns. “So you like doing laundry?”

She shrugs. 

His eyes narrow as he takes another bite of bread. “Do you have some kind of housework kink or something?”

“I enjoy service.”

“So you, like, cook and clean and iron and everything?”

“Yes.”

“All the time?”

“No, at home I share -”, she starts, but then stops herself, clears her throat, and says instead. “Basically.”

Mike makes a gagging sound. “That sucks.”

Scottie exhales and turns away to look at the small dining room stage where a jazz band has just begun playing. “That’s the problem with you - you have no respect for anything you don’t understand, I don’t know how Harvey puts up with it. You must be a great fuck.”

“I am, thank you. Does that make you jealous?”

She laughs, a deep belly laugh full of derision. “As if I’d be jealous of a Sub with stage fright and a crippling inability to submit.” Mike blushes hotly and looks away lest he climb over the table and strangle the bitch. Seriously, an Italian hospital - even an Italian _prison_ can’t be worse than this. “There isn’t a thing I wouldn’t try with a Dom. Well, the right Dom,” she says. “Harvey couldn’t handle that.” She looks smug and if Mike isn’t mistaken, ever so slightly regretful.

“Well it’s a good thing you found the right Dom, you and Darby are both equally conniving. You seem very happy.”

“Fuck you,” she says with a sneer. “God, I can’t wait until you go back to wherever you came from. If Harvey wants to tame you, that’s fine, but I don’t want anything to do with it.” She turns in her seat and crosses her legs to face completely away from Mike. “If Darby brought me a Sub like you I’d kick him the nuts.” She snorts.

“A Sub,” he says incredulously. “A Sub like me? What is that supposed to mean?”

She looks him up and down. “Scruffy and ornery and completely lacking the most basic instincts. It’s the biggest turn off.”

“I’m a turn off?” He points to himself, eyebrows furrowed. “To you?”

“I’m bi,” she says casually. “Didn’t Harvey tell you that?”

Mike sits back in his chair, suddenly disoriented. “No.”

“Yeah, well. I am. Always have been.” She looks back to the stage. The soft light illuminates the gentle curve of her neck and silky wave of her hair as it lies over her shoulder. 

“You… you’re bi?” Mike says slowly, his mind whirling through everything he’d stored away to construct his image of Harvey’s ex. None of it reveals any hint that Scottie might be bi-sexual. She’s flawlessly submissive, not unlike Ethan who is the most submissive person he knows. Even if Jacob were to bring another Sub into their bed, Mike can’t imagine Ethan doing anything but kindly tolerating the addition. The idea of him bridging the gap, of taking control, of dominating a fellow Sub is difficult to conceptualize. He’s too perfect. They’re both so fucking perfect. 

“It’s not all that surprising, is it?” She says with a laugh. “I’m hardly the only one.”

“I know,” Mike says, thinking of all the stereotypical bi-sexual Subs he’s seen on TV but never actually met. They’re portrayed as notoriously flighty, free spirited and noncommittal. Scottie on the other hand - “It’s just that you’re so… perfect.”

She grins slowly, her eyes twinkling happily. “Thank you.”

“I didn’t mean it as a compliment.”

“God forbid.”

If Scottie is bi-sexual, Mike muses, and if Harvey supposedly knows about it, then that means… “Was Harvey,” Mike begins, but stops himself. The desire to keep details of his relationship private overwhelms his curiosity.

“Was Harvey into sharing?” She says with a grin. “Yes, and no. He went along with it for my sake and even got off on it, up to a point. Once I started taking the lead though, he,” she sighs. “He was too possessive. It was never going to work out.”

“Is that why you left him?” 

She looks at him slowly. Hesitantly. Suddenly, in just a fleeting moment of defenselessness, Mike can see the age in her face. He can see sadness and regret and something else that he can’t quite put his finger on. Where he’d seen flawless perfection moments ago there is now a visible layer of melancholy that goes against every image he’d constructed of her. For a moment she doesn’t look anything like a villain. She just looks… human.

“We couldn’t have made each other happy.”

“You broke his heart.”

“I know.” She looks down at her wineglass and then, when she’s composed herself, looks up at Mike with a frown. “I’m not proud of myself, but I saw a chance for happiness and I took it.”

“That’s a shit excuse.”

“Yeah, well.” She holds her hands up as if to say _‘what are you gonna do?’_

The band continues playing several long pieces, all of which Mike can’t help but wish Harvey could hear. He loves jazz. Especially _good_ jazz.

As the dinner service wears on Mike has a perfect view of the dining room where several waiters and waitresses serve the tables with all of the attention to detail and masterful service he’s become accustomed to. It’s not until the rest of the room has been served and some have finished eating that Mike and Scottie are brought their plates.

“It’s cold,” Mike says miserably while poking at the pasta.

“It’s fine.”

He shrugs and takes a bite. It’s still delicious.

“So how does it work? With Darby?”

“What do you mean?” Scottie asks around a bite of fish.

“You’re bi, right? But you’re also a collared Sub and a service submissive. It’s just… a weird combination.”

“Is it?”

“Kind of. Yeah.”

She smiles wistfully while twirling her fork in capellini. “I guess I’m spoiled. Eddy is a great Dom, he makes everything feel so natural.”

Mike rolls his eyes.

After a while of tapping idly on her plate with a fork she looks up at him. “Do you really want to know?”

Mike shrugs. “Why not. Shoot.”

She sits up straight, a blossoming smile betraying her enthusiasm. “Well, being bi-sexual can be tough, especially when you’re looking for a committed relationship with a Dom.”

“And that’s you?”

“Sure. I love being collared.”

“Why? Wouldn’t you rather, you know, sow your oats or whatever?”

“God, that’s such a cliché.”

“Sorry.”

She takes another bite of fish, chases it with wine and continues. 

“As I was saying - it’s hard, especially in a committed relationship because ninety-nine percent of Doms will say they’d be into a threesome, but until Eddy they all freak out when they realize it’s something I _need_.” She shakes her head. “It’s on their terms, by their rules and on their schedule, or nothing.”

“And Darby is different?”

“He’s wonderful. But not just because of that.”

“Why? Because he’s rich?” 

“No,” she says with distaste, but then seems to think about it and smiles. “Well, in a way.”

Mike snorts.

“But the wealth is a symptom, not a cause.”

“How is that?”

“Eddy is old money. He still runs a household, like his grandfather’s generation,” she says nonchalantly and as if Mike should be following along with her reasoning. “It’s what attracted me to him. It was like,” she looks up wistfully. “It’s like when the prince rides in on the white horse in the storybooks.”

“Darby?” Mike exclaims. “You want me to believe that Darby is your knight in shining armor?”

“Why not?”

“Uhm.” He shrugs. “Nothing. Whatever floats your boat.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. Your Dom is better looking than mine? Is that what this is? A competition?”

Mike snorts. “Not much of a competition.”

“Fuck off. God, I thought you were finally being civilized for a change.”

Mike groans while stabbing his now completely cold food. “Sorry. I guess that was uncalled for.” He looks up and then down again. “I really am curious about Darby.”

“Are you going to behave?”

Her tone resembles so much that of a disapproving Dom he has to remind himself that he doesn’t owe her obedience. Even so - “Yes. I’ll behave.”

“So as I was saying, Darby is old money -“

“And still keeps a household,” he says with air quotes. “And makes you feel like you’re a princess or something.”

“Haven’t you ever wondered what an old English household would be like, Mike?”

Mike thinks about this. The only thing that comes to mind are those TV shows his grandmother used to watch from the 70s - “Upstairs, Downstairs,” or something like that. It was all a bunch of melodrama and weird aristocratic power dynamics that Mike was under the assumption were passé. To his knowledge he hadn’t read or seen anything recently to suggest that such a thing still happened. 

“So he has servants?” Mike asks.

“A couple. But that’s not the point.”

“I’m confused.”

“He keeps multiple Subs, Mike. There are three of us, usually. Sometimes more, sometimes less.”

 “And you get to have all the sex you want with them?”

Scottie smiles, clearly taking this as a reminder of her good fortune. “Sometimes.”

While cutting up the last of his food it occurs to Mike that, for all his intelligence and incredible memory, there is still a hell of a lot that he doesn’t know about the world.

“Do you all wear his collar?”

She shakes her head. “No. Just Marcus and me.” She smiles proudly. “He chose us.”

“And the others?”

“They come and go. Eddy usually only takes one apprentice at a time, but sometimes two.”

Now _that_ Mike has heard of, but he thought it was a tradition so old that no one practiced it anymore. Historically, especially in elite European circles, when a Sub came of age they would oftentimes leave their parent’s house and join that of a friend of the family, or someone well respected and willing to train and prepare them for a permanent match - a match with someone well off, influential and successful. In a way, a match they could never find on their own. However, ever since the 1920s Subs have become almost entirely independent in finding partners - sometimes long term, sometimes not.

“Apprentice Subs?” Mike clarifies. “They still do that?”

She nods. “Oh, yes. It’s really rare now, but it’s coming back in style. Eddy has a waitlist like you wouldn’t believe. I know, I interview.” She takes the last sip of her wine and immediately reaches for the bottle. Judging by the way her conversation has become increasingly free and easy; her alcohol tolerance is not very high. He’d stop her, for her own good, but the details of her odd life are too delicious. 

“It’s not really like it used to be,” she says. “We get some eighteen year olds, particularly from other really really traditional families in Europe. But older Subs apply all the time. Subs who want commitment, you know, but can’t seem to make anything work.” She smiles ironically. “Like me.”

“You were an apprentice?”

“Sure. Of course I was,” she says.

Mike sits back in his chair. Okay, now nothing makes sense. Scottie was an apprentice for Darby before she was his Sub, which means… she didn’t leave Harvey for another Dom, she left him for a fucking training program. The thought makes him sick because surely, surely, Harvey would have known about this. Or, if he didn’t know he found out, and that must have made it infinitely worse.

“You look angry,” she says. Her second wine glass is already in need of a refill.

“I am angry.”

 She sighs. “I told you too much.”

He doesn’t respond. He just pushes his plate aside, having lost his appetite.

“It’s sweet that you feel so protective of Harvey, but please try to remember that you weren’t there. You don’t understand what -“

“I know, I know. I don’t understand _any_ of this,” he says. “And to be fair, I did say I was interested, but, I don’t want to know anything else. You did what you did and in the end it’s for the best. You’re clearly happy now, which is, you know, great. And I think,” he runs a hand over his face realizing suddenly that he’s tired and lonely and too exhausted to hate Scottie anymore - at least for tonight. “I think Harvey and I, we’re good for each other. You’re in his past, and I’m in his present. It’s my job to make him happy now.”

Scottie nods. “That’s very mature of you.”

Mike shrugs. 

They both turn as the music starts again - the band having just returned from their dinner break. The melody is sad and sweet and it makes Mike want to cry for missing his Dom so much.

“Can I pass along some advice?” Scottie asks, interrupting Mike’s thoughts.

“What?”

“You might not believe me, but this is well intentioned. Despite having been an inexcusable bitch, I really do wish you the best. I went through a lot to find my own happiness and if there’s one thing I value most in my life, it’s the opportunities to help other Subs do the same.”

“I am happy.”

She tilts her head and frowns. “The first thing Eddy asked when he interviewed me - do you want to know what it was?”

Mike knows that he won’t like what he hears, but he prompts her on anyway. “What?”

“He asked me what submitting felt like, to me?”

Mike’s brow furrows in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“He asked me - does it feel like work, or pleasure?”

Mike stares at her, suddenly at loss for an answer.

 “Think about it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _I've had mixed responses and predictions about Scottie, and how she will fit into Mike and Harvey's story. Although there's still more to learn about her, I'd be fascinated to hear what you're thoughts are now - good, bad or indifferent!_
> 
> _Thank you, as always, for reading!_
> 
> _-poppy_


	14. Chapter 14

Scottie stumbles through the front door, trips on the hem of her dress and starts cracking up when Mike tries to catch her.

"You're drunk."

She snorts and shakes her head. "No, I'm not. I'm just, you know, tipsy." She sets her bag down on the bar and looks around. "Eddy's not here. Typical."

"Where'd he go?"

"He'll say he had a meeting, but it's a lie." She puts a finger up to her lips and laughs. "He's trying to throw us together."

"When you say throw us together, you don't mean..."

"Don't be stupid. No." She waves him off while pulling at her shoes and tossing them across the room. "You're not my type.” She throws herself on the couch and stretches. "He wants us to be friends."

Mike rolls his eyes while taking Scottie's lead and removing his cufflinks and loosening the collar of his shirt. "I did tell him not to bother. It's not going to happen."

Scottie sits up, props her chin on the back of the couch and smiles at him. 

"What?"

"I can make you my friend if I want to,” she says.

"Okay. You are _definitely_ drunk. Go to bed.” Mike walks to her bedroom door, opens it and points.

“Mike,” she whines. “Come sit with me.”

“Why? You hate me. I hate you.”

“You don’t hate me.”

“Of course I do.”

She sighs dramatically and flops back down on the couch. She kicks her legs up, causing the silk fabric to ride all the way down to her hips and then points to the empty space. “Come sit with me and I’ll tell you all the sordid details of my life. I know you’re curious.”

“I am not.”

She raises her eyebrows. “Yes, you are.”

_He so is._

“Fine.”

He plops down on the couch and grunts when her legs fall down over his lap. Not knowing where to put his hands, he decides to just cross his arms and look as put-out as he feels.

“Don’t be mad about what I said at dinner. I was just trying to help. But sometimes I can overstep my boundaries.”

“I’m happy with Harvey.”

She smiles. “That’s really good.”

“Seriously? You seriously want me to believe that you’re happy for me? You’ve been trying to throw a wrench in my relationship since the first time I set eyes on you.”

“I didn’t know you were Harvey’s Sub the first time I met you.”

He looks over at her. Her eyes are slightly glassy and tired. He shouldn’t take advantage of her inebriated honesty, but… fuck it.

“What was that about, by the way? It would only be fair to tell me what it is I’m keeping secret from your Dom.”

She stares at him stoically, sadly even as she contemplates whether or not to share her secret. Finally she makes up her mind, shifts uncomfortably and rubs a hand across her face.

“I was in New York on business. My firm sent me for three months to oversee a merger.”

Mike feels a stab of jealousy. Scottie, a Sub, not only finished law school somewhere reputable enough to gain employment at a top firm but is also trusted enough to handle a high priority case. For _three_ months. _Abroad._

“Before I left I started freaking out a little, because, you know, it was the first time I’d been away from Eddy for more than a week or two. But he was so wonderful about it,” she smiles. “He talked me through my anxiety and coached me on ways to deal with withdrawals.”

“How long can you go?”

She shrugs. “Two weeks, maybe. But I’ve learned to go pretty far under from vocal interaction alone so I could hypothetically make it a couple months.”

“Vocal? What, like telephone calls?”

“Right. Anyway, I’d never tested the theory so I was panicking. And then right before I left, when I was just about to leave for the airport and I was literally coming unglued, he tells me that he arranged to bring Marcus and come stay with me during the whole second month. Our most recent apprentice had just moved on and he wasn’t particularly tied down at work and, well, I was _so_ excited. All the way to New York I couldn’t stop smiling just thinking about it”

“And?”

“And he cancelled.” She shrugs. “It wasn’t his fault and it’s not like he’s the type to do that, but I was crushed. I’d only been in New York a week and I was already sick from missing him and then I find out he’s not coming. At all. That I’m stuck alone for three months.”

Mike feels a stab of sympathy.

“I freaked out and started yelling at him on the phone. I called him neglectful. I said he was a terrible Dom and that I never -“ her voice catches, “that I never should have chosen him.” She shakes her head. “I didn’t mean it. But I was so angry.”

“What did he say?”

“He told me that I needed to cool down and that he’d call the next day and ‘outline my consequences’”, she says with a not-half-bad imitation of Darby’s smooth English accent. “I was so blindingly furious that I did the _one_ thing, the one thing I knew would piss Eddy off more than anything else.”

“To pick up another Dom,” Mike concludes.

“No!” She shakes her head. “He gave me permission to do that.”

“Really?” 

“Darby shares me all the time. I love variety and he loves watching me get fucked.” The crude reminder makes Mike cringe. “But it’s not something I’m usually allowed to do alone. We go together. Like a date.”

“That’s... weird.”

“It’s amazing,” she smiles. “When he told me he couldn’t make it the first thing he did was give me permission to find another partner. But there were all these rules. First, I had to try to let him talk me through it. If that didn’t work I could get permission to go out. Second, I had to wear my collar and be one-hundred-percent upfront with whoever I met. And third, I had to call Eddy the next day and tell him everything. And I mean _everything_.”

“That sounds reasonable.”

“It was.” She laughs. “No, it was generous.”

“So what did you do that would make him so angry? Go out without your collar?”

She shakes her head slowly. 

“What then?”

“You’re not going to like this.”

Mike feels suddenly cold all over.

“What?”

“It wasn’t a coincidence that I was there that night, in the club.”

Mike inches away from her slightly. “What do you mean?”

“I swear I didn’t know Harvey had a Sub. I promise you. I thought you were his colleague. I thought he was unattached.”

“Did you stalk us or something?”

“I’m not proud of it.”

“That’s so fucking creepy.”

She drops her face into her hands, pulls her knees up to her chest and groans. “I know.”

“Scottie, what did you do?”

“The details aren’t important.”

“Yes they are. Fucking tell me.”

She looks up at him, guilt and shame written all over her pretty face. “I bought a cab and sat outside his apartment. He always used to go clubbing on Friday nights and I thought, maybe…”

“So you waited until we came down and followed us?”

She nods. 

“For fuck sake, Scottie.”

“I’m really sorry.”

“Why are you apologizing to me? Apologize to your Dom, apologize to Harvey.”

“I can’t,” she whispers brokenly and with tears in her eyes. Mike sighs and stands up. He goes to the bar to pour himself some of Darby’s expensive whiskey on ice. Deciding it can’t do her any more harm, Mike pours Scottie some as well.

“I’m not allowed,” she says miserably when Mike offers her the glass.

Mike shrugs and sets it on the coffee table in easy reach. She stares at it longingly before picking it up and taking a hesitant sip. The look on her face is blissful.

Mike smirks. “Well, if he’s going to leave it out and in easy reach, what’s he expect?”

“Self-control,” she says. “Which I am sorely lacking.”

Mike snorts. “At least you know it.”

She moans around her glass and nods. “I’m such a fuck up.”

Mike rubs at his forehead where he can feel a headache blossoming. “You’re a bipolar drunk.”

“Fuck off.”

Mike sets down his drink and then pries Scottie’s fingers from her glass. “Tell me what Darby would do if you told him.”

Her eyes widen. “I don’t know.”

“If you know what happened is the worst thing you could have done to him, and if you’re this freaked out, you must have some idea.”

“Why do you want to know?”

“So I can help.”

“Why?”

“Because I’ve apparently lost my mind. Stop questioning me.”

Scottie sniffs and wipes at her eyes. “I don’t really know, but it would be bad.”

“He doesn’t abuse you, right?” She shakes her head enthusiastically. “Does he respect your safe word?”

“Always.” 

“Has he ever done anything you couldn’t handle?”

She thinks about this. “No. He’s really good about boundaries.”

“Would he de-collar you?”

Her eyes grow wide and her fingers reach up to touch her collar protectively. “No, never. He’d never do that. We took vows.”

Mike nods. “Then my advice is to tell him and accept the consequences. If you trust that he won’t hurt or leave you, then lying to him for the rest of your life is going to be more punishment than accepting his consequences.”

Scottie stares at him. “You sound so wise for such a young Sub.”

“I’ve learned a lot.” He picks up his drink and takes another sip. “What happened after Harvey and I left the club?”

Scottie rolls her eyes and falls back on the couch. “I left, picked up two pints of Ben and Jerry’s and then laid in the hotel crying all night.”

Mike snorts. “Good.”

She kicks him and smiles weakly. “And then when I couldn’t stand it anymore I called Darby and he let me cry for another hour without even asking what was wrong.” She shakes her head. “He’s so good to me. He doesn’t deserve this.”

“He’ll forgive you,” Mike says with confidence. “You’re being too hard on yourself. So what? You felt lonely and scared and thought about finding some comfort with your old Dom, it’s not like anything happened.”

She frowns at him. “You don’t get it do you?”

Mike shrugs.

“It’s the worst kind of betrayal, what I did. I might as well have spit in his face.”

Mike waits patiently for her to continue.

“When we met Eddy here at Roissy, Harvey already knew who he was. He knew about the apprenticeships, he just didn’t understand how it worked. I did.” Her eyes are wide with desperation, as if willing Mike to understand. To validate her. “He still thinks Darby and I were having an affair, doesn’t he?”

Mike nods. 

“No. Eddy was here to interview a Sub, someone’s son from San Marino, I think. Sometimes what he’ll do, especially if the Sub is young, is spend a couple of days with them. Get to know them and what they need and really see if what we do is right for them.”

“And what happened?” Mike asks with genuine curiosity.

“He was all wrong. First, his parents lied about his English, so they could barely communicate. He was scared and worst of all he already had a Dom, some university student he’d been seeing behind his parent’s back. Eddy never takes on Subs, especially eighteen year olds, unless they’re unattached and enthusiastic about entering training. It was a disaster. Darby only spoke with him a few hours before realizing it was never going anywhere. So he packed him up and sent him home. The only problem was that he’d reserved four nights at Roissy.”

“And you were his diversion.”

“He didn’t come on to me, if that’s what you’re thinking. It was mutual, we all wanted what happened. It was hot and dirty and new. Harvey liked it too, I don’t care what he says now. He did.” Her expression is tight and somewhat bitter. “I won’t pretend that there wasn’t chemistry between Darby and me, but I never thought about leaving Harvey. That came later.”

“Why? What happened?”

“The same thing that happens to all failing relationships. I was unhappy, he was unhappy, and no matter how hard we tried, things kept getting worse. And then one day I woke up feeling miserable and alone and realized that I didn’t have to keep living that way. So I called Eddy and asked to be considered for training.”

The puzzle pieces start clicking into place in Mike’s mind.

“The clandestine meetings in New York,” he muses. “You weren’t cheating, you were _interviewing_?”

She nods. “But it’s the same thing, isn’t it? To Harvey?”

“I guess so.”

“Normally it takes a couple of years to get an interview, even back then. But when someone special comes along Eddy makes exceptions.” She smiles.

“Yeah, it’s no surprise that you think you’re a special snowflake.”

“Hey, you’re special too. I heard that Harvey’d sworn off relationships until you.”

He blushes. “So what’s the big conclusion? What happened between the interview and Roissy - when you left Harvey in the middle of the night so he could find you at another Dom’s feet? That’s the climax of the story, isn’t it?”

She must know the question was coming, nevertheless she pales and lowers her eyes to avoid Mike’s judgmental glare. “That’s personal.”

“But all that other shit wasn’t?” He asks with disbelief.

She puts a hand to her forehead and leans down between her knees. “I did drink too much, didn’t I?”

“Yes.”

“I talk too much too. Eddy says I need to work on my filters.”

“It’s okay. You’ve been - ” he thinks about all the things she’s revealed and how it shapes his new perception of Harvey’s ex. She’s not the monster he built her up to be, but she’s hardly an angel either. She’s been . . . “surprising.”

“I guess that’s good coming from you.”

Mike shrugs.

She exhales deeply, releasing all her pent up anxiety and stress. After a while Mike thinks she’s fallen asleep, but she turns and gazes at him seriously.

“You know, you look a little like Marcus. Or, you will someday.”

“He’s Darby’s other, uh, Sub or whatever?”

“Yeah, he is. But he’s also mine. We belong to each other.”

“So,” he gulps. “Is Marcus bi too?”

“No, not really, but it doesn’t matter. He still loves me.” She smiles.

“How long has he been with Darby?”

“Twenty-nine years. They met in college.”

“Thirty years?! And he’s chill with having you around all the time?”

“It’s not like I was unexpected. Marcus has been training Subs for decades. I’m just the first one they both fell in love with. Eddy wouldn’t have collared me if Marcus didn’t approve.”

“Seriously?”

“We’re a family. We make big decisions together.”

Mike looks away from her with a frown. Everything, absolutely everything he thought he knew about Scottie is wrong. He’s never felt so blindsided by anyone before. “So Marcus helped train you?” Mike asks, still not sure what _training_ would even involve.

“He was my sponsor.”

“What does that mean?”

She sits up to explain with excited enthusiasm. “When new trainees come in Darby assigns them to one of us. But before me, it was just Marcus. Think about it, what is the definition of an apprentice?”

“A person who learns a job or skill by working for a fixed period of time for someone who is very good at that job or skill,” Mike says automatically, the Webster definition scrolling across his memory. 

Scottie laughs and cocks her head. “Uhm, yeah. Exactly.”

Mike blushes and points to his head. “I have a, uh, good memory.”

“Right. So, if you think of it that way, who should an apprentice Sub be working with? Another Sub, or a Dom?”

Mike frowns in thought. “A Sub, I guess.”

“Exactly!” She exclaims with excitement. “Because even though Eddy had plenty to teach me, what I really needed, what we all need but most of us never get, is instruction on how to do what we do. How to be submissive without sacrificing who we are.” She’s beaming with passionate interest. “Our parents do their best, but they’re a different generation and it’s not like most of us would listen anyway. So we go along sampling Doms, hoping we find one who wants us, and thinking that if we can learn to submit to what _they_ want we’ll be happy. But that’s not how it works. If we don’t know ourselves first, if we don’t insist on a life that fulfills us and a Dom who wants and respects us just as we are despite all our flaws and quirks and bad habits, then why are we submitting? What is it all for?”

Mike stares at her, speechless. 

She sits all the way up on her knees, her skirts falling down softly over her thighs. Her eyes are alight with playful enthusiasm and happiness. The confidence he’d mistaken for cockiness isn’t about perfection with Scottie, it’s about security. Security not only in her situation, but in herself. It occurs to Mike with a sudden stab of painful understanding that he’s never felt that - security. Not once in his whole life. 

“You’re kinda cute, you know?” Scottie says with a shy smile.

“Thanks?”

“Now that I think about it, you might be fun to apprentice with.”

“Uhm…”

“The sad ones are always so sweet and grateful once they realize how wonderful life is going to be.”

“I’m not sad and my life is already grea-“

Just then Scottie falls forward and kisses him. It’s clumsy and quick and ends with a bout of giggles. It’s the first, no, second time he’s kissed another Sub and Mike finds it surprisingly not icky. 

“Oh my god, I’m _so_ drunk,” she chokes out through the laughter.

Mike shakes his head, too overwhelmed to think straight. He stands and offers Scottie his hand. “Let me help you get into bed, okay?”

She snorts but gives him her hand anyway.

 

 

The splitting headache and relentless feeling of desperation has been keeping Mike awake all night. He finally sits up and looks at a clock. It’s only quarter to one. He groans and falls back on the pillow. As soon as he helped Scottie into bed Mike realized that there wasn’t anything for him to do. Darby was gone, Scottie was asleep, and he didn’t even have his iPad. For a few minutes he stood staring at the front door contemplating what might happen if he just left. He could do it, easily. There was no lock, no one was watching him. He could just leave, find a pay phone and call Harvey’s cell. But what would that accomplish? It would probably qualify as some kind of minor crime and he’d end up back where he started, or worse. 

Eventually he gave up trying to entertain himself and flopped into bed, feeling too restless and lazy to truly sleep. After hours of tossing and turning, arrested by thoughts, questions, and uncomfortable realizations aroused by Scottie’s story, Mike finally decided to take one of the sleeping pills he’d been given by the doctor. They’re apparently too mild, however, because within an hour Mike is awake again and feeling the beginnings of a withdrawal.

With a groan Mike rolls out of bed and pads across the room. Hopefully there’s something to fill up his stomach with. A full belly can be a miracle cure for sleeplessness.

“Hello, Michael.”

Mike stops in the middle of the dimly lit living room and turns sleepily to the figure sitting on the couch.

“You look out of sorts,” Darby comments dryly.

Mike wraps his arms around himself and nods toward the kitchen. “I can’t sleep. I thought, maybe some food.”

Darby puts a bookmark in this thick novel and stands. “Let’s go see.”

Mike follows him, barefoot and uncomfortably exposed in only a pair of boxers. Once in the kitchen Darby opens the refrigerator and peers in. “Oh, dear. We are low.” He pushes aside a jug of juice. “Sugar will only make matters worse,” he muses. Behind it is a small carton of milk, which he takes out and sets on the counter. He then finds a round of fresh mozzarella, a tomato and a half-loaf of bread. Five minutes later Mike is sitting at the table where Darby presents him with a plate of beautifully arranged slices of cheese garnished with olive oil and salt, crisp red tomato and soft bread slices. A tall glass of milk sits beside it. Darby pulls out the chair opposite and sits to watch him eat with a sleepy grin.

“Thank you,” Mike says gratefully. “This looks really good.”

“I hope it helps.”

Mike creates a little sandwich and takes his first glorious bite. 

“I’m sorry to have disturbed you,” he says, feeling unusually relaxed around the man - a man who seems like an entirely different person to him than the one he’d left earlier in the evening.

“Not at all. It was just some pleasure reading. I rarely sleep more than four or five hours so I sometimes read late into the night.” 

Mike’s eyebrows rise. “Wow. No wonder you get so much done.”

Darby chuckles. “Well, it doesn’t hurt.”

When Mike has finished Darby insists on taking his plate and washing it. 

“I must be honest, Michael, you don’t look well tonight. Did something happen this evening that I should know about?”

Mike rubs his eyes and shakes his head. “No. It was all fine. I’m just tired and... and I miss Harvey.”

“That’s understandable.” Darby pulls out his chair and then follows him back into the living room. He sits back down and picks up his book, which he lays closed over one knee, his attention still entirely on Mike. He looks expectant, as if waiting for Mike to do something.

“Well, thanks again,” Mike says awkwardly as he inches back toward his bedroom door. Unfortunately, despite his full belly and Darby’s strangely comforting presence, Mike won’t sleep. His shivers have not subsided and he still feels jittery and restless.

“If you’d like to sit quietly, here, that would be acceptable.” 

Mike’s eyebrows furrow as he realizes what the man is suggesting. He’s pointing to the patch of rug to the left of his knees. 

Mike shakes his head, wide eyed.

“It’s up to you. I’m quite absorbed in my book so you will not be in my way. If you find that the company of a Dom helps with theses things, you might want to consider it.” With that simple suggestion, Darby opens his books with both hands wrapped around the pages and continues reading. Mike stares at the spot beside Darby’s knees with a blossoming desire so unexpected he feels as though he’s cheated on Harvey.

But how could this be considered improper? Harvey asked Darby to watch Mike, knowing full well who he is and what he does. Harvey trusts this man despite their tense history, so why shouldn’t Mike? With a tentative step Mike creeps forward, waiting to see how the other man will respond. When he doesn’t look up, even when Mike is standing almost squarely before him, Mike makes up his mind and kneels. 

First he turns his head away in embarrassment and lays his cheek on the couch. Darby says nothing so he stays this way for several minutes listening to the pages turn steadily. After awhile he starts to grow sleepy, but the cold breeze on his face from the window across the room keeps him from fully relaxing, so he turns to the other cheek and sighs, enjoying the pleasant warmth of the neighboring body and sense of safety and calm that gently carries him to sleep.

 

 

“Mike.”

A hand rests softly on his head, not stroking, not petting, just resting. “Mike.”

He opens his eyes wearily and finds that his nose is pressed into Darby’s thigh. He pulls away and looks up.

“I’m heading to bed. I think you’ll sleep well until morning.” His voice is low and soothing and authoritative. 

Mike sighs and nods, already imagining with pleasure the warmth of his bed. “Yeah.”

“Do you need assistance?” Darby asks as Mike stands on shaky legs. “No,” he says. “But thanks.”

“Goodnight.”

“Night.”

 

 

Bad habits, even those overcome as a child, have a nasty reputation for flaring up under stress. Mike sits on a overly stuffed couch in the medical wing’s sitting room chewing his nails and waiting for the state appointed counselor to show up. Darby insisted they arrive ten minutes early because apparently Mike needs to learn _punctuality_. But all Mike is really learning are the limits of his sanity. Scottie too looks ready to come out of her skin. The usually serene and self-controlled Sub is just as jittery, anxious, and distracted as Mike. She has been withdrawn all morning and Mike suspects he knows the reason.

That morning, when Mike had shuffled into the kitchen punctually at seven o’clock to prepare breakfast, he was surprised to find Darby sitting at the table with a pinched expression and white knuckled grip around his coffee cup. Scottie was sitting across from him with tracks of dried tears running down her cheeks.

Darby turned and looked at him steadily. His expression softened marginally, but maintained it’s infuriatingly business-like indifference. “You have a long day ahead of you, Michael.” Darby had said. “Get some more sleep and find me when you’ve rested. Your appointment is scheduled at four o’clock. Sharp. We will, of course, be early.”

Mike mumbled an awkward confirmation and scurried away, not to reemerge until after noon. By then whatever had transpired was old news. Nevertheless the tension is tangible and has created an icy cold riff that makes Mike begrudgingly regretful. It was, after all, Mike’s encouragement that convinced Scottie to spill her long held secret.

“Don’t look so glum, Michael. You’ll be reunited with Harvey in a few hours,” Darby says reproachfully. “And remember, the counselor’s job is to discuss options with you, they cannot make you do anything you don’t want.”

Mike bites his thumbnail and feels a bit of skin puncture. “Shit.” He sucks the wound and then glances up at Darby. “Where is Harvey anyway?”

“Close. At the appropriate time, I’ll bring you to him. Stop worrying.”

Mike rolls his eyes and looks again at the clock. The counselor is already twelve minutes late and it’s making Mike itch with irritation. If the law states that he has to meet for two full hours, does that that mean the clock starts at the appointment time? Or when the meeting actually starts? If it’s the later then that means he’ll be separated from Harvey for an additional fifteen minutes, which means. . . Mike drops his sore fingers to his side and slouches down in his seat petulantly. This is _pathetic_. “I’m going to the bathroom,” he says, standing. 

Scottie suddenly brightens and looks wide eyed to her Dom. “May I go too? Please?”

Darby looks between them with a strained but knowing expression. Just as he’s about to answer a flustered looking man with thick square glasses and a cheap wrinkled tie busts through the door. 

“I’m late,” he announces with defeat. He’s staring miserably at the clock hanging above a small water cooler. Seeming to conclude that this is not a mistake worth fretting over, he shrugs and turns to look at the room’s occupants. He is a young Dom with golden skin, dark unruly hair, and an unusually slight and unassuming frame. At first glance Mike assumes he’s Italian, but upon closer inspection his features seem less and less European. “Michael Ross?” He asks with a bright grin and surprisingly American accent.

Mike gulps and nods. Without saying one word to Darby, as some might do out of respect, the man steps forward to shake his hand - an egalitarian gesture that startles Mike, especially as it is done without any smugness or rebellion, just the simple respect most Doms reserve for members of their own orientation. Mike takes his hand gladly and shakes it with hearty confidence. Before releasing Mike looks down and notices with curiosity a colorful tattoo peaking out from under his shirt cuff.

“I’m Gabriel Martinez. Thanks for waiting.” He gestures to a door leading to a small private room. “Shall we?”

 

 

Gabriel Martinez, Mike learns, is a Mexican-American postgraduate student from Los Angeles studying Social Work at a university in Bologna. Although currently he’s working as an intern and translator for the AISDP, or the “Italian Agency for Submissive Rights and Protection”. He’s an attractive but somewhat scruffy looking Dom, about Mike’s age with a cheerful countenance and easy-going dominance that Mike rarely encounters. Gabriel speaks eight languages, each of which he demonstrates with a flush of embarrassment when Mike urges him to show-off his skill.

“I have a eidetic memory,” Mike says. “I’ve had my fair share of intellectual exhibition.”

“You’d be a great candidate for language learning,” Gabriel says with a smile. “You should try it sometime.” There’s something in his tone that conveys the same sentiment of proud encouragement Mike cherishes from Harvey. 

“I should,” Mike agrees, feeling warm and optimistic for the first time in days. “It would have been nice to communicate with these people.” Mike gabs a finger in the direction of Roissy at large.

“I take it you haven’t been enjoying Italy?”

“It’s awful. Or at least what little I’ve seen of it.”

“That’s a shame,” Gabriel says. “It’s a beautiful country. Whenever possible the agency likes to have someone who speaks the interviewee’s first language oversee appointments, so I travel a lot.” Gabe looks out through the little window at the back of the office and smiles. “I love Como,” he says fervently. “You’re my hero for getting me a free train ride up here.” 

As soon as the words leave his mouth, Gabe’s eyes widen and his smile droops. “Oh my god, I don’t mean… I don’t mean to imply that your situation is in any way. I mean -“

Mike laughs. “Chill. I’m glad someone got something good out of it. And to be honest, even though you’re a thousand times better than what I was expecting, I just want to play through the motions as quickly as possible so I can go home. In fact, is there any way you can cut this down by an hour?”

Gabriel frowns apologetically. “This is recorded,” he says, holding up a small electronic dictaphone. “According to section six of amendment 584 you are required to meet for a total of one hundred and twenty minutes -” while speaking Gabe is writing something on his notepad with a Sharpie. “To discuss the nature of your recent incident of endangerment.” He hold up the pad and points to the words **PLAY ALONG! I’M BEING REVIEWED FOR EMPLOYMENT!**. Mike smiles. “And of course,” he says with a casual efficiency that in no way equals his expression of exaggerated pleading, “to offer you some options as you move forward.” He turns the page of the pad to reveal **I KNOW I’M SHIT AT THIS, BUT PRETEND LIKE I’M AWESOME AND I’LL TOTALLY OWE YOU ONE!**

“I understand,” Mike says with a serious nod. He reaches across and grabs the pad off Gabriel’s lap. His smile widens as Mike jots something down on the pad and holds it up. **YOU ARE AWESOME, it says. AND YOU’RE EASILY THE LEAST SHITTY THING THAT’S HAPPENED TO ME IN DAYS**.

Mike knows he’s being shamelessly and unfairly flirtatious as he grins stupidly at Gabriel, but the Dom’s happy flush and subtle shift forward as if drawn towards Mike makes it entirely worth the brief stab of guilt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Get ready for chapter 15! Harvey will be returning in a BIG way!_


	15. Chapter 15

At some point during the past 48 hours, Harvey realized something. 

Most Doms come in and out of this realization many times in their life, but Harvey is inclined to believe that it will only happen to him once - and this is it.

Now, never has Harvey claimed to be an expert on relationships, but he most certainly has been around the block. His first relationship was with a pretty, fresh faced and virginal young Sub named Neela who he met during the summer before high school. She lived with her large family three doors down the street, and although Harvey didn’t have a clue what he was doing, their three months together was as perfect as any Dom could hope for from a first experience. When they were tired of each other, as all young lovers eventually are, they parted amicably. Over the course of his high school years he dated another five Subs - and while some relationships fared better than others, at the end of each Harvey came to the same conclusion - that he was fine being single. Absolutely and perfectly _fine_. After all, even as a pubescent and somewhat pimply teenager, Harvey never had trouble attracting a Sub. In fact, the occasional one-night-stand has always been preferable to commitment. No fuss, no bother, no _drama_. 

All in all, remaining single has proven to be a pretty great set-up. 

So Harvey has lived by this philosophy and been happier for it. Occasionally he’ll meet someone special - someone who catches his attention and makes him want to explore the things that make them unique for more than one night, but even then Harvey had never needed them and he’d certainly never loved them. At some point, he knew, he’d meet someone worth settling down with, someone he could take care of long term, but he’s never been in a rush to find them. It’s not commitment he’s wary of, it’s the fake and insincere emotion that so many Doms fall victim to. 

Love, Harvey always thought, must be a sentimental fallacy invented to make people who are actually in lust feel better about themselves. Now, that’s a concept Harvey understands - Lust. That insatiable urge to dominate a body into submission until it’s completely at his mercy, sometimes over and over and _over_ again. In addition to lust there’s the protective instinct - another thing Harvey knows all about. As a Dom, Harvey has experienced this with nearly every Sub he’s taken to bed. The contrast of their subtle physical frailty with his own sturdier figure is thrilling. He used to daydream as a teenager of heroic scenarios in which he swoops in and saves Subs from any assortment of danger or villainy. And although he’s matured out of those storybook fantasies, the thrill of rescue remains. In high school he saved a Sub from failing history with several late night tutoring sessions. In college he rescued one from a handsy professor after class. And as a young associate he helped defend a Sub at risk of losing a share of his father’s business to three dominant siblings. All three of these Subs, he should add, became some of his most rewarding bedfellows. So although Harvey has never believed in love, he’s pretty sure he understands what elements the emotion is made up of - lust, fascination and the accomplishment of the chase. 

And yet, after Scottie, Harvey learned that there’s one more crucial element. Because although he felt all three of those things for Scottie and for awhile saw himself spending his whole life with her, at the end there was something missing. Scottie didn’t _need_ him. If she had - if she’d needed him the way Mike has needed him ever since that first day at the Chilton Interviews, things might have been different.

When Mike came into his life all the pieces of this elusive puzzle fell into place so quickly and snuggly that his head spun with the intensity of it. The heady combination of blinding lust every time he touches Mike, even _sees_ Mike, the fascination of his Sub’s uniqueness that is unlike anything he’s ever experienced or will again, the pride Harvey feels when he thinks about the addiction Mike no longer suffers from, and finally, the delicious awareness that Mike is a better Sub when he’s with Harvey. It all results in a paralyzing emotion that contradicts everything he’s ever believed. Because, no matter how he looks at it, there’s a _fifth_ element he hadn’t anticipated. Something he didn’t foresee when he imagined spending his life with someone. 

Harvey wanted to believe that if someday Mike left him and he was alone again, that he’d be fine. Scottie had walked out on him, and while the betrayal still stings, he’s moved on and thinks of her now as a regretful season in his life. But when he says that he’s happy she’s found someone better suited to her needs, he means it. Besides, helping Subs find what they need should be the objective of every Dom, no matter how painful. 

Harvey always thought that no matter how much affection he feels for a Sub that he wouldn’t need them the way they seem to need him. Sure, he needs the release their bodies offer and he needs their companionship. He needs to take care of someone and he needs to be needed. But at the end of the day when everything goes wrong, as it usually does, Harvey would be _fine_. He’d rely on the security and distraction his profession has always provided and survive. It’s worked that way his whole life, and Harvey wanted to believe that if Mike ever left, it would work again.

But he was wrong. He _loves_ Mike. Deeply and irreversibly. And no matter what happens now, he’s never going to stop needing him. Never.

 

 

Harvey waits outside the counselor’s office for Mike to emerge, his pulse hammering so loudly in his ears that he thinks he might go crazy with anticipation. It’s already past 6:30 and Harvey wants to jump up, knock on the door and insist that his Sub be returned to him. Two hours have come and gone and if he didn’t think it would get him arrested, he’d refuse to wait a moment more.

When he arrived he spoke briefly to Darby, just long enough to thank him for his hospitality, ensure him that they would meet soon to discuss business, and tell him, in so many words, to _fuck off_. Scottie had stared at him the whole time with an oddly apologetic look that he’s still unsure how to interpret. 

Occasionally from inside the quiet waiting room Harvey can hear Mike’s laughter through the door. He can’t decide if he finds it encouraging or disheartening to think that a meeting intended to convince him to seek refuge from, what is assumed to be an abusive partner, could make him laugh. Finally the door opens and Harvey stands.

Mike is smiling as he steps into the room. He immediately turns to look back at the young Dom at his side. In his hands he clutches a business card. “You’ll call? If you need anything?” the Dom says with an encouraging grin. He’s standing far too close, Harvey notices, so he steps forward to make his presence known. The Dom looks over at him and when he registers who Harvey must be, his smile falters.

Mike turns around hesitantly, and in an instant his face morphs - first to surprise, then to guilt, and finally to relief. “Harvey,” he says throatily. 

The counselor looks regretful about it, but nevertheless he steps between them and says - “I’m sorry to put a damper on your moment, but legally you’re not allowed to be here.”

Harvey doesn’t meet his eye, he just stares at Mike hotly, hoping to convey everything - every regret, every apology, every promise and even the love he’s been too much of a pig headed fool to acknowledge until now.

“If you wouldn’t mind stepping outside the office for another five to ten minutes while I debrief Mike, that would be apprec -” He’s cut off sharply by Mike who sounds choked up, but happy.

“Give it a break, Gabe. The dictaphone’s off.”

Harvey smiles and when a moment later he finds his arms full of Mike’s familiar warmth, he grunts and laughs in pleasure. He closes his eyes, tightens his arms until he’s sure Mike will never be able to break free of him again, and breathes in.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispers, trying not to sound like he’s been crying - which he has been. _For two days_.

“Take me home,” Mike says desperately, as if someone might come up behind him, peel him off and separate them again. Harvey nods, grabs his hand and looks up at the counselor.

“Let’s be done with this,” Harvey says. “Tell me where I sign.”

Gabe looks torn. He glances back and forth between the couple - at Harvey’s clutching desperation and Mike’s pleading hopefulness - and sighs. “Okay, fine,” he says. He pulls a form from his bag and lays it out on the table. Mike and Harvey crowd around it eagerly.

Gabriel speaks briskly as he explains the waiver. Harvey peruses the legal jargon as best he can without sitting down and reviewing the terms as closely as he should. Mike’s eyes are shooting rapidly back and forth over the text. When Gabriel has finished his practiced speech he holds out the pen. Harvey and Mike look at each other, nod, and sign.

Just as Harvey has the doorknob in hand and Mike _almost_ out and away from this nightmare, Gabriel calls out - “Mike!” 

Mike turns around in Harvey’s arms and looks back steadily. “You’ll remember what I said?”, the counselor asks. Mike nods once, and then pulls Harvey through the door.

Once outside they hurry into Harvey’s hired car and slam the door on Roissy with a mutual exhale. Mike turns pleadingly into Harvey’s embrace and wraps his arms unselfconsciously around his neck. Harvey holds him against his chest and kisses him deeply and with all the emotion he’s been bottling up for what feels like _ages_. When they break away Mike drapes himself across Harvey’s side and sighs like he’s been holding his breath. Harvey looks down at his face - the flushed cheeks, full expressive lips, soft fluttering eyelashes and even the lines that are starting to deepen on either side of his mouth. He smiles.

“When is our flight?” Mike asks. He’s leaning his head on Harvey’s shoulder, eyes closed.

“Tomorrow at two.”

He sits up again with a look of weary horror. “No! No, no, no, I can’t stay here another night! I can’t handle it, Harvey. Please, pay whatever they ask, just get me on a plane.”

Harvey runs a hand up and down his spine while the car zips through traffic.

“Don’t worry, I have a plan.”

 

 

The boat is smaller and yet somehow more decadent than Harvey’s neglected yacht in New York. It’s sleek, clean and new, and Harvey has it on good authority that they are to be the first renters. It has a large upper deck with a wrap around seat and table, mini bar, and sun bathing deck. The dock is one of the most exclusive in Como, featuring unparalleled sunset views, five star ship-board service and privacy unheard of in one of the world’s most popular boating destinations. But none of that matters because Harvey has every intention of getting the yacht and Mike as far from the shore as possible. 

Harvey’s heart flutters with accomplishment at Mike’s pleased glow when he gives him a hand down to the deck. He’s sporting a grin and happy alert eyes. “Are we,” Mike asks looking down the steps at the large plush bed inside and table already set with a dinner service. “Are we _sleeping_ here?”

“Yes. Just you and me out on the lake.” Harvey pulls Mike to his side and strokes his arm. “I’m determined to give you _one_ good memory.”

Mike looks up at him seriously. The tone of their relationship is already different, Harvey thinks regretfully. Mike hasn’t smiled at him once in that way that seems to say - _I’m so happy to be yours_ , and he doesn’t lean in towards Harvey as if to say - _Touch me. I need to feel that you’re here_. He’s only had Mike back for an hour and he can already tell that something has changed. 

Suddenly Mike’s face brightens and all traces of the dark thoughts are gone. He wraps his arms around Harvey’s neck and kisses him. The gesture isn’t the least bit submissive Harvey notes, but it doesn’t matter. Harvey will take Mike any way he comes from now on. He no longer has a choice.

 

 

An orange sun is setting behind the mountains and the yacht is rocking back and forth with the gentle rhythm of the lake. A meal of roast lamb seasoned with rosemary, baby potatoes, bread with freshly whipped butter, salad with the finest olive oil and vinegar, and red wine with a price tag that made even Harvey wince, sit untouched on the table.

Downstairs a chorus of moans crescendos. Harvey holds Mike’s body in the circle of his arms, one hand under his head and the other curled protectively around his lower back. Mike curves back over the sheets with his legs wrapped tightly around Harvey and his mouth opens in a cry of pleasure so pure and honest, Harvey wishes he could bottle it. Their bodies are slick and hot and the sounds they make are loud in the perfect silence and approaching darkness.

Harvey slicks back his Sub’s hair and kisses his lips. Mike lifts up his arms from where they were draped over the side of the bed and wraps them around Harvey’s back. He strokes his sweat slick skin and looks at him with that now dreaded expression.

“I’m sorry,” Mike says.

“What are you apologizing for?” Harvey asks. “You’ve done nothing wrong.”

Mike lets himself fall back against the sheets and Harvey follows suit, lying down next to him with one hand resting protectively on his thigh. They’ve made love three times this evening and Harvey still feels like he needs more - like he needs to get closer, deeper. When he’d finally bared Mike of his clothing he’d wrinkled his nose with distaste at the foreign scent. Mike didn’t smell right. Although Harvey could still discern that impossible sweetness that had attracted him so many months ago, his own scent – the primal ownership he can smell when his nose is buried against Mike’s naked belly is gone. Even now Harvey can sense that something is off and it makes him want to fuck until all he can think when he holds his boy is _mine._

Mike sits up slightly and gestures to the wrapping around his neck. “Will you take this off?”

Harvey cringes. “You haven’t healed enough,” he says, not because it matters, but because he can’t bear the thought of having to see the angry accusing scar that will be there forever to remind him of how much he failed the only Sub he’s ever loved.

Mike looks over his shoulder. “It’s healed enough. Take it off.”

Harvey gulps but does as he’s asked. With trembling fingers Harvey unfastens the tape and peels away the gauze. Mike has to lift his head several times from the pillow as Harvey works to unravel the wrapping. When it’s finally gone and Harvey can see the damage done, he’s relieved to find that his memory of the wound was worse than the reality. The area is dry and clean and what had once been an inflamed and festering wound is now a pink scab no larger than a nickel. He runs his thumb over the area gently and Mike groans.

Harvey jerks his hand away and asks, “Did I hurt you?”

“No. I need to feel you. Keep touching me, please.”

It’s a strange request, Harvey thinks, considering that for the past two hours they’ve been as close as two people can be, and that Harvey has touched him everywhere it’s possible to touch. But, this is different. This is more intimate. This is where Mike has been forcibly bared of Harvey’s claim, no, of his _promise_ , for days. Harvey gently cradles Mike in his arms and wraps one hand up his chest until he’s stroking his throat with light feathery strokes. Mike leans his head back and sighs, but Harvey pushes him forward again until his throat is pressing tightly into his palm and then kisses him directly on the healing wound. Mike whimpers.

“ _Please_ ,” he begs.

“What is it, baby?” Harvey whispers while slowly moving his lips down along his collar line and toward his ear. “What do you need?” He’s already stroking the bobbing adam’s apple and sucking on the sensitive skin under his ear.

“I,” Mike says breathlessly. His body is tense and trembling. “I don’t know.”

Harvey hums and then moves back to lick and suckle ever-so-gently on the wound. Mike keens.

“Too much?”

He shakes his head frantically. “No, no. Please, don’t stop. Make me forget it, Harvey.”

He doesn’t know what that’s supposed to mean or how he could ever go about making Mike forget _anything_ , but if this is what he needs, then Harvey isn’t going to argue.

After kissing, licking, sucking and biting his neck into what looks like a painful mess of slick bruises and red bites, Harvey stops, flips Mike onto his back and leans over him with one hand still wrapped behind his head. Mike looks up at him with a tired but happy smile. He blinks a couple times and then lets his eyes drift shut.

“I love you,” Harvey whispers. Mike’s eyes open again, wide awake.

When he imagined it, Harvey’s not sure what he expected Mike to do at this moment. He expected surprise, maybe, or joy. He hoped for the excited ear-to-ear smile Mike gets when he’s really truly happy. But that’s not what happens. 

Mike just stares at him. For a long time. And then, right when Harvey is about to peel himself away in humiliation, Mike blinks and Harvey realizes that his eyes are red and watery and his lip is trembling. “I know,” he says brokenly. “I love you too, _so much_.” Then he grips Harvey’s hair and pulls him into a desperate kiss that has them both panting and within minutes Harvey is inside him again. But this time their lovemaking is melancholy and desperate at a moment when everything should be so completely different.


	16. Chapter 16

“You’re joking?” Harvey asks, still belly laughing from Mike’s story.

They’re lying together on the deck, entwined in blankets despite the warmth of the night. As Mike smiles his eyes shine with the carefree joy Harvey rarely sees on his often over-stressed Sub. 

Harvey can’t stop touching him. His chest, flushed pink from too much champagne and his long lean leg flung over Harvey’s hip. His hot inner thighs and his lips still swollen and wet from having been wrapped around Harvey’s cock. His neck, freckled with cherry colored bruises. His ass. Mike grabs his hand with faux exasperation and places it safely on Harvey’s belly. 

“Enough! You’re insatiable. I’m weak and dehydrated from too much sex.”

“You are _not_ dehydrated.”

Mike snorts. “True.”

“So Scottie kissed you.”

“She totally kissed me! She was drunk off her ass and practically falling off the couch, but she kissed me. You should have seen it.”

Harvey reaches across Mike to take another sip of champagne. He’d paid for three bottles, so he damn well intends to drink them. “I wish I had, it sounds hot.”

Mike chuckles and then begins laughing in earnest. From across the dark lake where another boat’s cabin lights betray it’s position they can hear a woman yell something in Italian that almost certainly translates to - _Shut the fuck up it’s midnight._ They laugh even harder.

When Mike has caught his breath he shakes his head, wiping tears from his eyes and says - “I don’t know why I’m laughing.”

“Because that scenario would be a comical disaster. But I can imagine it any way I want to, and I imagine it being _hot_.”

“Oh my god, you’re really fucking drunk,” Mike says, even though he himself can’t keep his left eye open all the way.

Harvey’s laughing so hard no sound is coming out. 

“And why am I not jealous? Seriously. You just told me that you think your ex is hot.”

Harvey rolls on top of Mike and looks down at his pouting lips. “I think _you_ are hot. You could kiss a golden retriever and I’d think it’s hot.”

They stare at each other, trying to remain serious, but within seconds they’re rolling on their backs again in hysterics.

 

 

The next morning Harvey cracks one eye open and cringes. His head feels like it’s going to explode. His tongue is dry and it feels vaguely like there’s sand trapped under his eyelids. Looking to his right he finds Mike sprawled face down over the bed, drooling. He glances at the clock to make sure they haven’t missed their docking time. 7:15. Good, they have almost three hours. He stands with effort and shakes his head to try to dislodge the buzzing sound, but it only makes him stumble. With one hand against the wall he stumbles his way to the tiny bathroom where he bumps and trips into the shower, turns on the hot water, and groans with his forehead against the tiles. 

When he finally emerges feeling not-at-all better, but at least _clean_ , he finds Mike standing on the deck looking around with a grimace. “What happened last night?” he asks.

Harvey cringes at the rented sheets stained pink with wine and food spilt from the dining table, one broken champagne glass, and what is almost certainly a very costly rip in the white leather upholstery. 

“It looks like we had fun.”

Mike snorts. “Yeah. I just wish I remembered it better. Everything’s all fuzzy.”

Harvey puts a hand to his head and nods. Honestly, he can’t remember _anything_ after the second bottle of champagne. Looking over at Mike, Harvey has a sudden harrowing thought. “But you remember,” he asks nervously. “I mean, you remember -”

Mike turns to him with a small smile, grabs his hand and says, “Of course I remember that. I love you too, Harvey. I’ve loved you for a long time.”

Harvey pulls him closer, careful to avoid the broken glass underfoot. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner, you deserved to know. I was,” he gulps, feeling weak, “afraid.”

“Yeah, well. I knew.”

They stand chest to chest, Mike in nothing at all and Harvey with a damp towel around his waist. “I always knew you’d prove to be smarter than me one day.”

 

 

The flight home is uneventful. Boring even. Despite the relief they both feel at knowing they’re on their way back to New York and away from all the trouble Italy has caused them, there’s something indisputably melancholy about the long quiet flight. The mood lights seem darker, the champagne isn’t as sweet, and the isolation of the private cubicles is no longer a luxury.

Unlike the first trip, Harvey doesn’t have Mike sneaking into his first class cubicle to clumsily “join the mile high club”, like some giddy schoolboy on his first adventure. Mike seems older, even though it’s only been a few days.

At one point he’d knocked quietly on the cubicle door while Harvey was in the middle of a long Esquire article on his iPad. He scooted over to let Mike sit beside him in the slim space, but Mike pretended not to notice.

“I just thought of something,” he’d said.

“What’s that?”

“We’re three days late returning to work.”

“I emailed Donna.”

“Yeah, but what’s she going to say? I mean, why would we _both_ be returning late? We’re supposed to be in different places.”

Harvey shrugs. “She’ll figure it out, she always does.”

“But, hasn’t she email you back by now? This is Donna we’re talking about.”

“Honestly, I haven’t even looked. I let my phone die two days ago and haven’t bothered to turn it on again. I needed to keep my focus on you. I wouldn’t worry.”

Mike doesn’t look at all convinced. “Okay, thanks.” He turns to go.

“Mike,” Harvey calls. He reappears obediently. “You can sit with me.”

Mike looks down again at the empty space and frowns. “Yeah. Okay.” He slides snugly beside Harvey and when he looks up he’s smiling sweetly, like a parent appeasing a needy child. But after a few minutes, his attitude changes. Harvey can feel his body unwind, his fingers curl against his side, and his nose reach up unconsciously to burry itself warmly in Harvey’s neck.

After the plane has landed and Harvey and Mike have both sleepily loaded their bags onto those little airport carts, they shuffle out to the taxi queue. Mike cringes in the late afternoon sun. 

“God. What time is it? Shouldn’t it be the middle of the night by now?” He looks around at all the busy business commuters and peppy tourists.

Harvey looks at his watch. “It’s a little after three. The time change works backwards when you fly from east to west.” Mike grunts. While waiting their turn for a cab Mike takes out his cell phone and holds down on the power button while yawning. Taking his cue that it’s time to return to the real world, Harvey pulls out his now fully charged phone and turns it on. After the glowing white apple fades away Harvey is startled to find twenty-three alerts waiting for him - missed calls, urgent emails, voicemails, texts.

“Shit,” he says, wiping a hand across his face. “Trouble at the office.”

Mike grunts and then turns to walk to a bench a couple feet away. He’s looking down at his phone with a frown. Maybe Donna has also been trying to call him.

With an exasperated sigh Harvey accesses his voicemail to find six unheard messages. One from his car club, three from Donna, one from Jessica and one from… Louis? That can’t be right. Out of curiosity, Harvey clicks play on Louis’s voicemail first.

_Harvey. You have to know that it wasn’t me - don’t listen to what Donna’s saying. It wasn’t me. I didn’t know anything about it and I never put a hand on him. Louis’s voice sounds panicked. Just, call off the attack dogs. Please. For fuck’s sake, it wasn’t me._

Harvey’s breath catches in his throat and his hands are shaking as he scrolls down to Donna’s first message.

_Harvey. Pick up your phone. Pick. Up. Your. Fucking. Phone._

He clicks the next one.

_It’s out, Harvey. Mike’s cover is blown. I don’t know how, but I have my suspicion. Jessica’s been looking into it all day and quite frankly even I can’t sidetrack her. You need to pick up your god damn fucking phone! I can’t_ \- she chokes back a sob - _I can’t do this alone. Call me._

The next.

There’s silence at first, and then he can hear Donna take a deep breath and say - _You’re going to be getting a call from Jessica. Harvey, I - I hoped to catch you first and let you know what to expect. I know I don’t say this often enough because, as you know, I don’t think you need anyone else stroking that huge ego of yours, but… I not only think you’re a phenomenal lawyer, despite the massive pity party you’ve been having lately, but more importantly I’m proud to be your friend._ She laughs. _Now this is starting to sound like a deathbed confession. I don’t mean to get sentimental, I just know things are going to get tough and I didn’t want to lose the opportunity to tell you how much I care about you. Always have. Okay, that’s it. Call me._

With a racing heart Harvey finally taps on Jessica’s voicemail. He doesn’t need to hear this to know what she’ll say, but if he doesn’t confirm this nightmare, he won’t have the nerve to tell Mike. Her voice is cold, firm and authoritative. Even through the phone Harvey is shaken by her command.

_Specter. You’re position with Pearson Hardman will be terminated pending investigation into your involvement in the fraudulent activity of Mr. Michael Ross. You will be expected in a meeting this Thursday at 4pm. If you do not attend, we will mail you your belongings._

Feeling dizzy, Harvey looks up to find Mike, but he’s gone. He spins around frantically with a persistent sense of surrealism. The people, the cars, the noises. Everything seems wrong. Finally, Harvey takes a deep breath and checks his watch. It’s 3:35. He still has time to make it to office and try to salvage this. He’s not sure how, but he has to try.

Flicking on his phone once again Harvey speed dials Mike. There’s no answer. 

_Mike, I know what you heard and I understand why you’re panicking, but I can’t help you if you run away. Call me. Let me know where you are. I’m on my way to a meeting at the office but I’ll get out as soon as I can. I can meet you. Just_ \- he takes a deep breath - _Just don’t do anything stupid._ Harvey almost clicks END before putting it back to his ear and saying - _I love you. Call me._

Without another thought Harvey stuffs his phone into the pocket of his travel jeans and pushes his way to the beginning of the taxi queue, completely ignoring the angry protests.

 

 

Donna throws her arms around Harvey as soon as he steps out of the elevator. She looks disheveled, tired and sad. Harvey walks confidently past every curious stare and heads straight for his office. When it comes into view he breathes a sigh of relief to find that his things are still where they should be. That’s… something.

With all the confidence he can muster he takes a seat calmly behind his desk and clicks open his computer as if nothing is wrong. Donna stands in the doorway looking at him like he’s lost his mind. 

“Harvey, what the fuck are you doing? You’re already five minutes late for a meeting that will determine the fate of your job and most likely the future of your law practice. Harvey, they’re talking about disbarment!” Donna is rambling, loud and unglued. Harvey’s never seen her like this. 

Refusing to lose his cool he gently sets down his bag and stacks some papers that were left strewn across his desk.

“Donna, calm down.”

“I can’t calm down! Do you have any idea what I’ve been through?”

Harvey exhales and stands up to put a hand on her shoulder. “I can only imagine. And I adore you for it.”

Her eyes narrow. “You’re way too calm. What are you plotting?”

“Donna, I refuse to appear panicked. Everyone in this office has their eyes on us right now and I will not let them see us sweat. As soon as we do that, we’re guilty.”

She looks over her shoulder and immediately a dozen curious stares turn and go back about their business.

“What are you going to do?”

Harvey looks at himself in the mirror near the door. He’s certainly not dressed appropriately, but there’s no time to change. Instead he settles for smoothing back his hair and dabbing on a bit of cologne. He then grabs a pad of paper and pen.

“I’m going to a meeting. That’s all. If anyone asks, I don’t care how much they think they know, you tell them this is a routine meeting between partners. That’s all. Do you understand?”

Donna nods, looking stunned.

“Good. Now - where are they waiting?”

“The deposition room.”

Harvey nods and strolls out, his whole body vibrating with the effort of appearing unaffected.

“Specter,” Jessica says coolly as he walks through the door. “You’re late.”

 

 

Few things have ever truly and utterly freaked Donna out. For example, there was the time she watched her dog get run over by a trash truck in the fourth grade, and the time her mother had the breast cancer scare when she was seventeen. Then there was the time her college professor got her grade mixed up with another Paulson just before graduation, and the time she had to bail her sister out of a DUI.

Harvey’s shit, however, was never supposed to affect her. This is a job. Harvey is her pain-in-the-ass boss and Mike is just someone else’s Sub. She shouldn’t be freaking out, but she is. And Rachel - she is NOT helping. 

“You have to talk to me sometime,” Donna complains to Rachel’s back in the break room.

Rachel ignores her and finishes washing a mug. When she’s done she moves to the coffee maker to wipe it down unnecessarily.

“Let me get this straight,” Donna says. “You’re not mad at Mike, even though he lied. You’re not mad at Harvey, even though he lied. But you never want to talk to me again? How does that work?”

Rachel sets down the coffee pot hard. Donna winces and backs up as she comes at her.

“I hardly know Harvey, so I don’t expect him to tell me _anything_ , much less the most personal details of his life. And _Mike?_ He was scared of losing everything if this secret gets out so I understand why he did what he did, even if it does piss me off. But _you_ ,” she says, dripping with disdain. Rachel’s finger is pointed right at her chest and Donna is battling the instinct to either run away, or put her in an arm lock.

“You know me, Donna! You know me better than anyone and yet you didn’t trust me with this! I trust you every single day and now I find out you’ve been lying to me? What else have you been lying about?”

“We should probably talk a little quieter because if someone overhears us -”

Rachel growls and pushes Donna in the shoulders before storming out. 

With an exasperated exhale Donna slides down onto the floor, her pencil skirt bunching up around her thighs.

Her life sucks so much. 

Later, while sitting at her desk trying and failing to look unconcerned about the meeting everyone in the office is talking about, Harvey has been gone almost two hours. She supposes that can only be a good sign. If Jessica had her way, she’d have spoken her mind on the matter and ended the discussion within fifteen minutes.

Rachel skids to a halt in front of Donna’s desk with a panicked look on her face. “Donna, you have to come with me. Now.”

Donna turns her nose up and continues reorganizing paperwork that Harvey will probably never need again. But still. 

“Damnit, Donna, get up,” Rachel hisses. “Mike just showed up and is headed straight for his desk.”

Like a rocket lit under her ass she flies up and hurries toward the bullpen with Rachel’s heels clicking along behind her. When they round the corner the scene they find is devastating. 

In every cubicle the associates have gone quiet. Some have a phone held frozen to their ear, some are standing motionless as if interrupted in the middle of a conversation, and some hold their fingers over keyboards. But all of them are staring silently at Mike as he looks down with confused anguish at his boxed up belongings and disconnected phone.

Donna takes one step forward and announces with as much authority as she can muster - “Listen up. Everyone needs to get out. Now.” When no one moves, she says it again. “Out! Everyone. For god’s sake, it’s after five, go home.”

They look at her and then at each other. One associate makes a move to pick up his briefcase and leave, but his neighbor eyes him disapprovingly. She can hear him say under his breath - _“She’s just an assistant. We don’t have to do what she says.”_

Donna flushes hot with humiliation and rage. Before she has time to protest and try to reclaim what little authority she’s constructed over the years from sheer confidence and gumption, a voice shouts from behind her - “Get off your asses and leave! You heard the woman!” Within seconds every startled associate is on their feet and shoving things into their bags.

“Faster! Out, out, out,” he shouts. “Go home to your pathetic little lives. And next time Donna tells you what to do, you fucking listen. Understood?”

Rachel’s eyes widen and Donna smirks. Several passing associates mumble affirmation and apology. As soon as the room is empty Rachel hurries over to Mike and puts an arm around him. He still looks catatonic.

“Thanks,” Donna says to Louis, who is frowning at Mike with the closest thing to genuine concern Donna thinks she has ever seen, especially considering the circumstances. Louis should be livid, not only at Mike, but at Donna.

“Don’t mention it.” He turns to her with a puffed up chest and freshly reinstated cockiness. “Try to remember this next time you feel the urge to send someone to break into my house and destroy my porcelain ballet figurines. They were _priceless_ ,” he snarls. 

“Sorry about that,” she says, struggling not to smirk. “I thought you’d ratted him out. When I’m angry my reactions can be a little off the cuff.”

“My cat needs therapy after what she witnessed” he says. “I mean that literally.” With an angry huff he turns on his heel and marches away.

When Donna joins Rachel in the cubicle, Mike still hasn’t moved. He’s starting to scare her. Gingerly, Donna takes his hand and squeezes.

“Mike? Can you take a seat for me? You look pale.”

He looks up at her blankly and then down at the chair. “What happened?” he says, without sitting. “What’s going on?”

Donna considers several courses of action here. She can let him down easy - tell him she and Harvey will do everything they can to fix this. Or she can tell him the truth. Somehow, despite the dazed and desperate look on his face, the truth seems less cruel. There’s no way Mike will be getting his job back regardless of what strings Harvey pulls in that meeting. Everyone in the office knows about this now and there’s no coming back from federal document fraud and malpractice. In all honesty, he’s lucky no one’s talking about filing charges. Yet.

“Sweetheart, your secret’s out.”

Mike gulps.

“I really need you to sit down. Rachel, can you get Mike some water?” She nods and hurries away.

“I don’t want to sit,” he says with a panicked look around the office. I need to go. I need to get out of here.”

“Mike, you need to sit down and wait for Harvey.”

Mike perks up at the mention of his Dom. “Harvey? Where is he?”

“In a meeting. He’s being reviewed for dismissal, but knowing Harvey he’s in there negotiating a bigger office. Now please, you need to sit down.”

“He’s doing _what?_ ”

Donna shrugs. “He’s doing what Harvey does, he’s trying to make the most of a bad situation.”

“How did this happen?” 

“I still don’t know. I’ve been trying to figure it out. But if you just sit I can -“

Mike jerks his arm from Donna’s grip and takes two steps backward. “No. I need to go. I’m leaving.” He suddenly looks alert, angry and thin lipped. “Tell Harvey… actually, no. Don’t tell Harvey anything.”

He slings his carry-on over one shoulder and exits without another word. Just then Rachel returns with a glass in hand. 

“Where’s he going?”

“I dunno,” Donna says. “But I have a really bad feeling about this.”

 

 

Never has Harvey been more tempted to strangle a cab driver. He’s sweating and feeling slightly faint with worry as this asshole makes responsible and safe traffic choices. Harvey leans forward and slaps a hundred bucks down on the center console. “Get me to my apartment in five minutes and I’ll double it,” he says. 

The aging Dom looks down at the bill with consideration and then up at the thick commuting traffic.

“Not possible,” he says with finality. 

Harvey collapses against the back of the seat and groans.

When they finally arrive fifteen minutes later Harvey still hasn’t reached Mike on the phone, nor has Ethan, Donna, Rachel or anyone else Harvey can think to ask, heard from him. Harvey really wishes he’d saved Trevor’s number in his phone

“Mike?” He shouts hopefully into the dark apartment. He turns on the lights in the living room and kitchen and then checks the bedroom where everything is, unfortunately, just as they’d left it. Harvey collapses onto the edge of the bed and drops his bag. He’s not here. He could be anywhere. He could be doing anything. Harvey slips into the bathroom to wash his face with cold water to wake up his tired eyes and clean off the grime of over 24 hours of travel.

Not sure what else to do, Harvey unlocks the wardrobe and then opens the top drawer with the dildos and vibrators and clamps. In the very back is a black hinged box where he keeps the key to Mike’s old bedroom. He hasn’t used it in months, and as a rule, he holds to his initial promise to respect Mike’s privacy, even if the room has become nothing more than a dusty storage unit. But now, he needs to do some digging. Surely Mike has an old address book with Trevor’s contact info. Maybe Mike even wrote down that Jenny woman’s number.

With key in hand, Harvey jiggles the bedroom handle and then unlocks the door. Instantly, Harvey is invaded by an overwhelming stench. With alarm, he flicks on the light switch and looks around.

Sitting on the floor between the couch and the wall is Mike, pale faced and wrecked. He looks slowly at Harvey, emotionless, unapologetic and cold. Harvey rushes forward and plucks the stub of a joint from Mike’s limp fingers. He drops it into the kitchenette and washes it down the drain. Then, with numb, devastated efficiency, Harvey fills a glass of water. He sits down on the floor across from Mike and pulls him into his lap. Mike comes easily.

“What did you do? Christ, Mike. What did you do?”

“I’m sorry,” he whispers. He can tell Mike is zoned out and far away, but he forces him to take a drink and then holds his hand so he can monitor his pulse. Strangely, the anger and frustration that had always accompanied concern when Mike took Subspace is absent. Harvey feels only sadness and guilt, like this is all his fault.

“You should have let me take care of you,” Harvey says, his voice cracking. “Why don’t you ever let me take care of you?”

Mike’s eyelashes flutter against Harvey’s bare collarbone, but all he has to say is - “I’m sorry.”

“I have a plan, Mike. I know it feels like everything is over, but I have a plan. You have options.” Harvey realizes that Mike probably isn’t taking much of this in, but it feels good to keep talking. “You’re not alone. They took my job too. It’s all over for me, but… I don’t care. I feel free.” He looks down at Mike, but his eyes are still half closed and glassy. “We can start afresh. Jessica agreed not to submit me for disbarment if I agree not to take Pearson Hardman clients to any future firm. But, Mike, they don’t know about Darby! That’s huge! And we have enough saved up to -“

“Harvey?” Mike interrupts.

“What is it, baby? Tell me.”

“My grandmother died.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _I hope you all got through that okay. It was a bit of a roller coaster. But like I've said all along - the boys have many trials still ahead of them._
> 
> _Feel free to drop me as much (well intentioned) hate mail as you'd like. I'm always happy to coach you through your frustrations ;)_
> 
> _-Poppy_


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _**This chapter has some extra warnings. Please review the endnotes before continuing if you have any consent triggers. As a rule, if you've been uncomfortable at any previous point in the story, you should be extra cautious.** _
> 
> _I apologize for the delay. I wish I had a RL excuse, but I don't. Writing chapter 17 was, possibly for the first time, NOT an enjoyable experience. It was tough on me and I expect it might be tough on some of you. And yet, it had to be done and I'm happy to be moving forward. We are nearing the end of "Malpractice", but there will be a part three following without much of a hiatus. Probably 4-6 weeks. I also want to point out that everything that's happening and will happen has been carefully planned from the very beginning. I've said it once, but I want to reiterate now more than ever - I BELIEVE IN HAPPY ENDINGS!_
> 
> _For those of you who left feedback at the end of chapter 16 - I read each and every comment and adore you for your support! If I didn't respond, it's not because I don't appreciate you, it's because I've been stressed and focused on completing the chapter. And, to be honest, it's hard to send reassurances to all of you looking for an end to the angst when... well... you'll see._
> 
> _Oh yeah - this one is REALLY long. Enjoy!_

Mike organizes his Grandmother’s funeral with single-minded efficiency. For the next four days he doesn’t allow Harvey to speak to him about anything unrelated to the service. This is most likely because Harvey won’t relent on the Subspace incident. His insistence that they address the relapse is met with resistance and then an episode of such explosive hostility that Harvey has to grit his teeth and resist the urge to discipline. Mike isn’t in a place to evaluate his behavior. He needs the freedom to be irrational and lawless, and Harvey wants to give that to him. 

The service is expensive. He’s not sure Edith would have wanted that, but the elaborate details seem to help Mike cope. Harvey wants to point out that they’ll need all their savings if something goes wrong with his plan, but, he doesn’t say anything. 

When the day finally rolls around, Harvey is starting to feel jittery from lack of contact with Mike, who has been sleeping in his old room at nights. Although this is technically against their rules and is clearly not doing either of them any good, Harvey suspects that Mike is punishing himself for having not been there when his Grandmother needed him, and punishing Harvey for having been the person who took him away. It’s cruel and unfair, but, once again, Harvey isn’t saying anything. 

And then there’s the worst thing - the thing that makes Harvey sick just to think about. Mike won’t take back his collar. Harvey presented it to him several days ago, clean and beautifully displayed in its original box. He hoped the sentimentality of the gesture, the reminder of love between them, would soften Mike. But it didn’t. He just stared down at it, gulped, and asked Harvey to give him some more time.

So while Mike sleeps long hours at night and wakes only to work tirelessly on the funeral during the day, Harvey commits himself to formulating a plan for their professional future. He researches, telephones contacts, makes long scratchy notes on legal pads, and pretends like everything is okay. Like everything is coming together. To free up some stress, Donna even agrees to continue helping Harvey root out the rat that ousted Mike. No one can be trusted until Harvey knows who betrayed him. And nothing can be resolved, no peace obtained, until Harvey has his revenge.

“Let me get that,” Harvey says when he spots Mike fidgeting with his tie at the entryway mirror - he’s never been any good at this. Mike flinches but allows it.

“We’ll be late,” he says.

“We’ll be early. Don’t worry. I promise you’ll be there to greet your guests.”

“What if no one comes?”

Harvey runs a hand up and down his arm soothingly. “They’ll come. If her friends loved her half as much as you do, they’ll be there.”

Mike gulps and nods stiffly. When the knot is positioned and they’re both looking at their grim but neat reflections in the mirror, Harvey takes the risk and steps close against Mike to lay both hands on his hips in what he hopes is a show of comfort and support. Mike looks away from the mirror and steps out of his grasp.

“Do me a favor and don’t touch me today,” Mike says without meeting his eye.

“Mike.”

He picks his phone off the little table and drops it in his pocket.

“I just need you to give me some space.”

 

The service is beautiful. All of Mike’s invited guests arrive as well as two dozen people he didn’t invite - mostly employees of Pearson Hardman who, it seems, have gathered to show Mike their support. Mike doesn’t seem to understand the sentiment, but it makes Harvey choked up to see friends and co-workers show their acceptance, despite the scandal. Looking over his shoulder just as the service is about to begin, he sees Donna and Rachel struggling to find a seat.

Mike sits next to him with his hands folded in his lap. The tension between them is so intense that Harvey instinctively shifts to the left to avoid letting their knees brush. To Mike’s right sit Trevor and Jenny, both teary eyed and awkward. It gives Harvey some satisfaction that Mike won’t let them touch him either - but not much. Sitting through the entire service is a battle of will as he watches Mike tremble with the effort of not crying before finally giving up somewhere during Trevor’s speech. He’s reminiscing about Edith’s cooking, bad TV habits and unwavering support and courage in raising a child so late in life. Harvey knows that if Mike had the strength to say the words himself, he would have. And despite Harvey’s dislike for Trevor - which has increased tenfold after the most recent Subspace incident - he can’t help but feel begrudgingly grateful that he was there to say the words Mike couldn’t. 

As Trevor takes a seat, Harvey places his hand upward on the seat between them in the hope that Mike will take it. He doesn’t. Instead he turns to Trevor and hugs him. Harvey feels the rejection like a punch in the gut and for the remainder of the service he has to bite his cheek and breathe deeply through his nose to control his fury - at Trevor for always being right around the corner waiting to cause trouble, at Mike for only trusting Harvey when it’s convenient, and at himself for having no clue how to fix this mess when things seem to be spiraling more out of control each day.

After the ceremony Mike wanders off to speak to a group of guests waiting patiently for him with kind sympathetic smiles. They’re all being ushered toward an elaborate reception of coffee and desserts. Spotting Trevor and Jenny walking around the perimeter of the sanctuary, Harvey pounces. He grabs them each by the arm and yanks them none-too-gently into a small restroom by the entrance. He locks the door and turns on them.

“What the hell were you two thinking?” 

Jenny looks taken aback, but Trevor’s eyes are narrowed with dangerous irritation. The old lighting in the two-stall bathroom is dim and shadowy while some flaw in the wiring makes the room buzz. 

“What the fuck is your problem, dude?” Trevor steps forward, chest puffed out in a dominant gesture that would be comical on a smaller Sub. Jenny grabs his hand and pulls it down next to hers in an attempt to keep him from getting physical. He grits his teeth but obeys.

“We don’t know what you’re referring to, Harvey.” Jenny is even-tempered and reasonable, even though Harvey and Trevor are both eyeing each other with unmasked hatred. Harvey won’t pretend that half of his resentment isn’t related to the hug and the foul realization that Mike would sooner seek comfort from Trevor than from him.

“I’m referring to the Subspace you gave him. Do you have any idea how hard it was to break him of that shit? I don’t care what you two do to fuck up your lives, but don’t you dare jeopardize Mike’s chances.” Harvey points at Trevor who is now starting to turn red. “You know, I could have reported you for illegal drug trafficking. I had the evidence and more than enough cause.”

Jenny looks confused. Trevor is snarling.

“Harvey. We haven’t seen Mike in weeks and neither of us have touched Subspace in over six months.”

Harvey glares at Trevor, entirely unconvinced. “Is that what he’s been telling you? I think your Sub is a fucking liar.” 

At this point Trevor surges forward, fist raised as if to deliver a punch to Harvey’s jaw, but Jenny yanks him back with a show of strength that even Harvey finds impressive.

“Trevor is _not_ hiding anything from me. I’m sorry to have to tell you this,” she says with a raised voice and fiery eyes, “but it sounds like Mike has another source, because it’s not us.” She reaches around him to unlock the door. “Now fuck off.”

Harvey looks between them, still hot with anger, then turns to go.

“That shit almost killed us,” Trevor shouts. Harvey turns around. He’s red faced, teary eyed and trembling. “How dare you think that I could care so little for him.”

After a short reception the large majority of guests leave. Through the whole thing Mike holds himself together with impressive self-control. He speaks to the Pearson Hardman guests with a smile and not a hint of the shame and humiliation he must be feeling, and greets friends and family with confidence. By now most everyone who knew him as a Dom would have learned the truth, and although Harvey spots a few people glancing over their shoulder to observe him with curiosity, they’re generous enough not to discuss it - at least not where Mike can hear.

Finally, Harvey, Mike, Trevor, Jenny and a few close friends of Edith’s leave to attend the burial site.

“How are you feeling?” Harvey asks as they drive to a small private lot on the outer edge of the city.

“Fine.”

“You don’t seem fine.”

“I’m fine, Harvey. Please stop asking me how I’m doing, it doesn’t help.”

“Okay.”

When they arrive they’re greeted by an usher who leads them to the plot. Mike stands rigidly with his hands clenched before him and his head low. 

The other guests gather together as the minister begins reading passages from the bible. 

“I don’t know how he’s doing it,” Jenny whispers to Trevor. When Harvey looks over he sees Trevor staring down at the neighboring grave sorrowfully. On it, Harvey finds the name _Ted Ross, 1922-1987_ \- Edith’s Dom and bonded partner. That makes sense. Of course Mike would bury his grandparents together. Taking a hesitant step back Harvey finds a third gravestone - _James and Nina Ross. Died 1991._

Harvey turns to Jenny who meets his eye cautiously. “Does he ever visit these?” he whispers.

She looks to Trevor who shakes his head, jaw clenched

“I don’t know if he’s ever been here, not since the last funeral.”

“Twenty-three years ago?”

“It’s hard to revisit something that traumatic.”

A balding Dom with a sloppy bow tie hushes them as Trevor hisses something to Jenny about not speaking to the enemy.

“He’s not the enemy,” she whispers. “Now shut up.”

They all three turn to look back at the priest who is closing the bible and setting it aside. The pulleys holding up the coffin creak and then begin moving down slowly. Mike is asked to step forward and toss a handful of dirt as it lowers. He stands close to the grave looking stoic and professional, as if this were just a business meeting, not the last rites of his most beloved grandmother. Once the handful of dirt has been sprinkled perfunctorily over the casket Mike takes three large steps back. The priest summons the rest of the guests forward. They all gather in a single file line.

Harvey steps behind the final guest and watches Mike with concern. He looks tense, jittery and pale. He wants to hold him. He _needs_ to hold him, but he can’t. He’s not _allowed_.

Once Harvey has sprinkled the final handful of soil over the lowering casket he hears Jenny call out to Mike and the small group begin to murmur. Glancing around he spots what everyone is looking at. Mike has turned his back on the service prematurely and is walking briskly, stumbling slightly, toward the car. Behind him, the casket creaks with mechanical protest as it makes its final descent. 

“Should I go after him?” Jenny asks Trevor.

“No,” Harvey says. “You two stay here and give the guests Mike’s regards. I’m taking him home.” She nods and pushes him forward. Mike seems to be heading toward the driver’s seat.

“You’d better hurry. He’s the type to run.”

Nodding, Harvey jogs to the car. Mike glares at him as he approaches.

“I don’t want you.”

“Too bad,” he says. He grabs Mike by the hand and pulls him around to the passenger side door. “You’re not driving in this condition.”

“Don’t tell me what to do.”

Harvey opens the door and points. “Sit down. I’ve had enough of your attitude. I know you’re mourning, but you can’t treat people who love you like shit.” Mike grimaces slightly and then plops down in the seat.

As they drive back to the apartment the silence is deafening. 

“We need to talk. You’re not handling this well, Mike. It’s not healthy to -“

“Can you please shut up? Please? I feel sick.”

Harvey glances over at him. He’s pale and sweaty and leaning his forehead against the window.

“You’re having withdrawals.”

“I fucking know that!” he shouts and then lets his head fall back with a crack. 

The rest of the car ride is silent aside from an occasional sob and miserable sniffling. 

At the door of the building, Harvey hands the keys over to the valet and then goes to open Mike’s door. He just sits there staring out at the street.

“Let me help you inside, Mike. You need to lie down.”

Mike looks up at him with an expression of sorrow and guilt and then grabs Harvey’s proffered hand. What Harvey expects is for him to do what he’s done all day, all _week_ for that matter - touch him only as long as is strictly necessary and then push him away. Instead, Mike folds himself snuggly into Harvey’s embrace and sobs. Big uncontrollable sobs that shake his whole body and make him weak in the knees. The valet smiles at them awkwardly. Harvey wraps his arms around Mike and holds tight, and then, not really caring what the sidewalk pedestrians might think, Harvey swoops Mike up into his arms and carries him through the front doors and straight to a waiting elevator - it seems the doormen anticipated them. When he finally gets an incoherent Mike safely into the apartment he sits them both down on the couch and does what he’s wanted to do for days. 

He holds his Sub. He kisses him, whispers reassurances into his ear and pets him lovingly. He tells him he’s precious and perfect and loved. After what seems like hours, Mike stops sobbing and goes still in his arms. 

“She needed me and I wasn’t there.”

“You couldn’t have known, Mike. It’s not your fault.”

He shakes his head. “I did know. I knew. She was sick but I was too busy worrying about,” he pauses, “other things, to notice.” He takes a deep shuddering breath. “She died alone.”

“Just because you weren’t there, in the room, doesn’t mean she was alone. Mike, she knew how much you loved her. You can’t be alone when you have that much love.”

He turned away and wipes his arm across his eyes. “She was my responsibility. I was all she had and I failed her.” He sniffles miserably and looks up at Harvey. His voice is weak and pained. “It’s not fair, Harvey. I feel like such a fuck up. I can’t even take care of myself.”

Harvey doesn’t know what to say. The honesty of Mike’s sentiment is crushing. Does he really feel that way? Does he really feel like a failure for needing… what? A Dom? And if so, how the hell will Harvey, of all people, be able to help? All he can do, all he knows how to do is help carry the weight - to be strong when Mike is weak. To know what to do when Mike doesn’t. It’s stupid to feel guilty, but suddenly Harvey feels exactly that. Like he did something wrong. Like failing Mike _at all_ , for _any_ reason, even for something out of his control, is somehow his own personal failure.

“I’m sorry,” Harvey says, the words sounding just as hollow and meaningless to his own ears as they must sound to Mike’s.

Mike sniffs, trying to take full breaths again after crying for so long. He stares out of the living room window for a long time, thinking. Harvey rubs a hand up and down his back, hoping that what little support and comfort he can provide is enough. With a shuddery sigh Mike turns in his arms and presses his lips against Harvey’s. Harvey holds a hand to his head, grateful for the contact, but before he has time to deepen the kiss, to mingle their tongues and feel his Sub intimately again, Mike backs away. “Do you still love me?”

“Yes, of course I do. I’ll always love you.”

“Then I need you to tie me up.”

Harvey stiffens. “I don’t know. That could be a bad idea.”

“I’m not asking, Harvey.” He stands up and walks into their bedroom. Harvey watches him go, head spinning with the audacity of Mike’s casual dominance. He makes this demand as if Harvey’s opinion on the matter is irrelevant, as if he’s just a necessary tool in Mike’s private agenda.

Following him, bewildered and speechless, he finds Mike standing in front of the wardrobe sorting casually through the drawers.

“What are you doing?” He reaches forward to slam close the doors. “This is off limits, Mike, you know that.” Mike tilts his head to the side as if to say _“Really? You think your stupid rules matter to me?”_ He opens them again and pulls out four coils of bundled rope, then hands them to Harvey.

“These.”

“No. I’m not doing this. You don’t get to tell me what to do.”

Mike stares cooly at him for a long quiet moment and then shrugs. “Fine. Then I’ll go find someone who will.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Harvey asks as Mike walks around the bedroom, opening drawers and pulling out a change of clothes. Jeans, a t-shirt, socks. “Are you seriously suggesting that you’d go to another Dom? For fuck’s sake, Mike, what’s going on with you? You ask if I love you and then walk out when you don’t get what you want. I don’t care how upset you are, you don’t get to threaten me.”

“I need what I need and if you won’t give it to me then I’ll find someone who will,” he’s throwing a pair of boxers on the bed like a child in the throws of a temper tantrum. “I don’t feel like bowing down to your self-righteous code of conduct, Harvey.” He slams one of the drawers closed making the dresser wobble. “I feel like shit. Hollow and dirty and just…” He turns and looks Harvey up and down. “You’re always so caught up in your own head. I can practically feel you planning every move you make. It’s exhausting.”

Harvey gulps. “If you’re trying to hurt me, it’s working.”

Mike clenches his fist and growls. “I’m not trying to _hurt_ you, Harvey, I’m trying to… I’m trying to…” He pulls off his suit jacket and throws it on the bed. “Remember the time you let go and just whipped the shit out of me because it felt good to do exactly what you wanted, even if it didn’t make sense? Even if it was a little fucked up?” His eyes are wide and frantic. “Remember how good that felt?”

Harvey can’t help but think, _yes, it felt amazing_ , but he doesn’t say it. This conversation is getting out of hand. Scary even. “Doing what feels good without thinking about your partner - it’s dangerous, Mike. We learned our lesson in Italy. I’m not -”

“This isn’t about you,” Mike yells. “It’s about me! I want to feel something again and I don’t understand why you won’t just give me what I need!” Mike picks up the rope and thrusts it at Harvey’s chest. “Tie me up, Harvey. Please.” When Harvey doesn’t do anything he presses his knuckles firmly into his chest and says it again. “ _Please_.”

With a sigh, Harvey takes the rope and looks down, stroking them with the fingers. “This stuff is too rough. I have something softer.”

“No, I want those.”

“These are for punishment, if anything. I don’t even know why I still have them. The last time I used these I gave a Sub nasty rope burn for days.”

“Good.” He pulls off the rest of his clothes and crawls up onto the bed. Harvey can’t help but feel a twinge of guilty excitement. He hasn’t touched his Sub in nearly a week and now here he is - naked and kneeling in perfect form, his clothes strewn around him. He looks wild and debauched and suddenly Harvey can’t think of anything he’d like more than to get Mike tied down. To force him into submission and see him defenseless and at his mercy. It’s a heady urge that goes entirely against his better judgment. The worst thing he could do right now is go along with Mike’s demands and make him think he can play Harvey to his own whims. 

If he could just get a minute to think, surely he would be able to come up with a better solution. Another way to fix this.

Mike exhales as if exasperated with Harvey’s dawdling. 

“If I do this,” Harvey decides finally. “I’m leaving you like that until I’m ready to release you. No exceptions.”

Mike hesitates as if just realizing how much power his request gives Harvey. Finally, he nods.

“Are you sure you don’t want the softer ropes?”

“Yes.”

With a shrug Harvey starts removing his clothes until he’s in nothing but pants. Then, he shakes out the ropes and lays them across the bed beside Mike. Taking one length in each hand he rubs it slowly across Mike’s chest, over his nipples. Mike winces. “Final chance to back out,” Harvey says.

“No. Obviously I _want_ it to hurt.”

 

Harvey starts by tying his hands together at the small of his back and then binds his calves from knee to ankle. Mike watches him do this with a pleased look on his face, bordering on cocky. When that’s done Harvey forces him to sit back on his heels and then lean forward until his chin touches the mattress. Once Mike has achieved the stretch he ties a rope from his ankles to his bound hands, causing the rope to stretch tightly between his ass cheeks. This, Mike clearly wasn’t expecting because his eyes widen and he licks his lips as if preparing to protest. 

“I’ll get the ball gag,” Harvey warns before Mike has the chance to say whatever it is he’s thinking. With a sigh he turns his head away and leans back so that the rope loosens slightly. Harvey pushes him down firmly into the mattress again and prepares the next rope to go all the way around his folded up form twice, once just above his ass, and another over the shoulder blades and between the knees where the rope will rub against his tender skin.

Mike is already fidgeting against the irritating rope before Harvey ties the last knot.

“Regretting your decision.”

“No,” he growls between clenched teeth.

“What’s your safe word?”

“Subpoena.”

“Do you want to use it?”

“No.”

Taking a step back he admires his work. Bondage has never been something he went out of his way to perfect. There are Doms who can bind a Sub into a masterpiece of beautifully symmetrical ropes and knots. Doms who can suspend a Sub into any imaginable position with one perfectly executed lift. And while this isn’t exactly the most artful creation, Harvey is proud of his work. It makes effective use of the rope’s less pleasant qualities and puts Mike in a position of submission that causes Harvey’s pulse to beat faster. And the fact that he seems frustrated and slightly dissatisfied now that everything’s said and done is bittersweet, but sweet none-the-less. 

Taking a step back he can’t help but notice that Mike is in the perfect position to have his mouth fucked, if Harvey so desired. With a guilty exhale he dislodges the train of thought. Mike is in pain. He’s mourning and he’s confused. This isn’t a good time to be thinking about getting off.

Stepping forward, Harvey runs a hand down Mike’s spine gently, ending where the two ropes cross at his lower back. Mike shudders at the sensation and Harvey’s mouth goes dry seeing the rope disappearing between his ass cheeks and then separating them prettily.

“How are you feeling?”

Mike doesn’t say anything. His eyes and jaw are clenched and tense.

Harvey goes into the bathroom and leisurely prepares a bowl of cool water and a washcloth. Into the water he mixes some eucalyptus oil that he favors for it’s calming scent and cooling qualities. When he returns Mike is heaving and twisting backwards as if to untangle himself.

“You need to relax.”

“I’m trying,” he says through gritted teeth. “I thought… I just thought…”

Harvey dips the cloth into the water and strokes it gently down his back, letting the liquid run down his sides. “What did you think?”

He huffs. “I thought this would fix it! I thought it would slow down my head.”

Harvey falters. “What do you mean? What have you been thinking about?”

“Nothing.”

“Mike, I need you to help me understand what you’re feeling. I allowed you to bully me into this, but I can’t do anything more for you if you shut me out.”

Mike groans and buries his face in the sheets. “It’s starting to really hurt.”

“The ropes?”

“That too.”

“Talk to me, Mike.”

“It’s my head.”

“That’s because you’re going through withdrawals. Migraines are a symptom.”

“I know that. It’s not withdrawals, it’s the memories. They won’t stop and they won’t let me sleep.”

Harvey sets the bowl down and goes to sit on the bed near Mike’s tear lined face. He uses the washcloth to clean off his cheeks and then runs a hand from his neck to his head where he buries a hand gently in his hair.

“Thinking about your grandmother is natural. It’s a good thing.”

“I know, but, there are so many and I remember _all of them_.”

“Are they bad memories?”

“No. Most of them are happy. Some of my happiest.”

“Then that’s good, isn’t it? You’re so lucky to remember all those wonderful things. Most of us don’t have your gift. Sometimes I can’t remember my mother’s face, I have to look at a photo to remind myself.” Harvey strokes his fingers across Mike’s scalp soothingly and wipes where hair has stuck to his forehead. Mike is heaving now.

“You don’t understand.”

Harvey sighs. “I guess I don’t.”

After a while Mike turns his head and meets Harvey’s eye for the first time since he’s been tied up. “This is a waste of time.”

“I could have told you that. You don’t respond well to bondage unless you’re already relaxed.”

“Fine. Untie me then.”

Harvey considers it. Mike would probably be easier to talk to, easier to unwind if they tried something different. But - “No. We talked about this.”

“I don’t give a shit what we talked about. I need you to let me out.”

“And I need you to trust me.”

Mike glares at him. “Why? You’ve hardly given me reason to.”

Harvey removes his hand and sits back. “What are you trying to accomplish with this, Mike? Are you trying to rile me up? Are you trying to make me angry? Because it’s working.”

Mike blinks. “It’s not working,” he growls, “nothing’s working! Now fucking untie me. I want to go to bed.”

Harvey stands up and takes the bowl and washcloth into the bathroom. When he returns Mike is struggling purposefully to wiggle out of his restraints. That’s not going to happen. Harvey might not do the most artful bondage, but he does do the most secure. “Harvey. Come on, let me out.”

“I told you how it was going to be. You force me into tying you up, you lose the privilege of choosing when you’re free. You’ll stay like that until I say you’re done.”

Mike struggles again fruitlessly and when he can find no leeway he looks up and snarls at him. Harvey can see the far away dullness in his eyes that speaks of worsening withdrawals. The kind of withdrawals that start to make him desperate and not himself. “Fuck you,” Mike spits. “You put me through hell, you know that? You took everything from me.”

Although he doesn’t show it, the comment feels like someone has reached into his stomach and ripped out his gut. “Mike, that’s not fair. Things are bad right now but there was nothing I could -” he pauses, unconvinced of his own words. “I love you and I never wanted to hurt you.”

“Yeah, well. Maybe I want you to hurt me.”

“Mike.”

“Maybe I want you to hit me.”

Blinking at his Sub’s feral but now entirely truthful expression, eager and hopeful even, Harvey turns his back to Mike and shakes his head. “No.”

“Just hit me! Whip me, spank me, anything, I don’t care, just do it!”

“No.”

“I fucking hate you,” Mike says. He’s crying again. “What are you even good for?” 

Harvey’s feeling numb and his ears are buzzing. The words barely make a dent through the thick armor he’s constructing around himself to block out the unbelievable pain of this surreal day. He dares a glance at Mike and finds his expression suddenly sheepish as if he’s just realized what he said and can’t understand it. “Harvey, I-”

Harvey turns his back and opens the wardrobe. “I’m gagging you,” he says calmly despite feeling increasingly dizzy.

“No!” Mike says urgently, the desperation back again two-fold. “No, please! I don’t want it.”

Harvey grabs the ball gag out of a drawer and walks over to the bed. “Too bad. You’re out of control.” 

But when Harvey is just about to hold the gag up to Mike’s lips, he leans away and says, with perfect calculated control, “Subpoena.” He’s glaring at Harvey venomously. It’s scary. This isn’t Mike. This isn’t Harvey’s precious Sub. 

“Subpoena,” he says again.

They stare at each other for a long time. Mike challengingly and Harvey befuddled. Finally, he drops the gag on the bed and turns to go. “Fine.”

“Harvey! Subpoena! Harvey!” 

When the bedroom door shuts behind him and he can still hear Mike shouting, Harvey tries to convince himself through a fog of tortured disbelief that Mike was only trying to get out of being gagged. He tries to convince himself that Mike was being manipulative and dramatic - that he was trying to get a rise out of him. He tries to convince himself that he didn’t just shut the door on a Sub screaming his safeword. 

After several long minutes of panting confusion, his mind starts to clear, his ears stop buzzing, and he can suddenly decipher the word Mike is still screaming, shrilly, from the other room. Nauseated, Harvey bursts through the door and starts ripping at the ropes. Mike is shaking, sweating, and his voice is raspy as he continues to chant his safeword like a terrified mantra. When the last rope is untied they fall down limply around Mike’s naked body and Harvey watches him roll onto his side and curl up into a ball. Before he can take a step forward Harvey realizes that the contents of his stomach are not going to stay down. He rushes to the bathroom to bend over the toilet and heave up his lunch. He then falls to the floor, exhausted and miserable.

 

When he stumbles back into the bedroom, Mike is gone. 

Still feeling dazed, Harvey knocks on his door at the other side of the apartment, gently and without urgency. “Mike. Can we talk?”

There’s no response.

“You don’t have to let me in. I know you must be feeling -” Harvey pauses, realizing that he really doesn’t know what Mike must be feeling. Used, abused, angry, sad, alone. “If you would just talk to me through the door, or, maybe, on the phone?” Harvey pulls his cell from his pocket and stares down at it. When it doesn’t ring for several minutes he sighs and goes to sit on the couch. He taps on Mike’s name in his speed dial and waits. After the first ring he can hear something buzzing from the bedroom. On the floor by the bed he spots Mike’s phone flashing blue. It must have fallen out of his pocket.

“I have your phone,” Harvey says at Mike’s door again, trying to sound normal, hoping the tone of voice will reassure him. 

Nothing.

“Mike. Can you please say something so I know you’re okay? I don’t want to get the key from the wardrobe, I want to give you your privacy, but -”

“I took the key, Harvey.” He’s clearly sitting just behind the door. His voice is monotone and low. “Go away. Please.”

Harvey exhales, the feeling something like having his chest pulled up through his mouth, and walks back into his room where he collapses on the bed, buries his nose in Mike’s clothes, and cries. Cries like he hasn’t done in _years_.

 

It’s after ten that night when Harvey begins to smell a strong and familiar stench leaking from Mike’s door. On his phone Harvey finds Jenny’s number in the sparse contact list. 

“Mike?” she answers. “Oh my god, you worried me earlier. How are you feeling?”

“Hello Miss Griffith, it’s Harvey Specter. I’m sorry to call so late.”

There’s a long pause before - “What’s wrong? Something’s wrong.”

“I need a favor.”

“What?”

“I need you and,” he swallows bitterly, “Trevor to come speak to Mike. Possibility bring him to your apartment for the night.” Harvey wants to tell her that he’s scared. That he knows Mike is using again. He wants to tell someone that he feels worthless, and like a failure, that he worries he’s lost the person he loves most. But he doesn’t. His pride won’t allow it.

“We’ll be right over.” 

Harvey hangs up with a newfound respect for Jenny. She could have asked questions. She could have mocked him for needing another Dom to resolve his conflicts. For not being good enough, strong enough, wise enough. But she didn’t. 

When they arrive they call Harvey’s cell instead of knocking. Harvey lets them in quietly. Although he’s washed his face, brushed his teeth and changed his clothes, sick misery is still pouring off him. Even Trevor looks begrudgingly sympathetic.

“He’s locked himself in,” Harvey whispers, nodding to the door. Jenny looks at it and then back at Harvey.

“Do you want to be with us when we go in?”

He swallows and shakes his head. “He doesn’t want me. I’m not,” he pauses. “I don’t deserve…” His words sound rough and weary. “Just take care of him for me. Whatever he needs.”

She nods. “Yeah, okay. We will.”

It’s such a little thing, but, the few seconds it takes Harvey to weave himself between Trevor and Jenny in that narrow hallway, head hung low, and walk alone back into his bedroom will always be one of the worst things he’ll remember about this evening. He’s ashamed, powerless and defeated. Even in his own home he feels like an outcast.

While waiting Harvey sits at the desk in his small office and listens to a jazz playlist on iTunes. Normally he’d turn up the volume on the record player in the living room and listen to the rich authentic scratching. But for now, he just needs something slow and melancholy to take up some of the space his head is trying to fill with nasty flashbacks. In the three hours it takes Jenny to return he needlessly revises five archived reports, all the while resisting the urge to run across the apartment, burst through Mike’s door, and take his Sub into his arms.

“He’s coming with us,” Jenny says from the doorway. Harvey swings around in his chair and looks at her. He’s not surprised exactly. He’d even suggested the idea, but somehow he’d thought, or maybe hoped, that Mike would want to stay with him. Or at least talk to him. But after what happened, that’s a lot of wish for.

“How is he?” Harvey asks. The fact that Jenny isn’t ripping his head off tells him that Mike hasn’t revealed what happened earlier. At least not all of it.

“He’s high.” She shrugs.

Harvey nods. “How much did he take?”

“A lot. Too much. He needs to detox. I’ve never seen him take that much Subspace. In fact, I’ve never seen _anyone_ take that much.”

“But,” Harvey counts the elapsed time. “It’s only been a few hours.”

“Harvey. He’s been smoking for days. We found, like, two dozen smoked joints in his sink.”

Harvey feels the blood rush from his face.

“It’s crazy. Only Mike could have the control to smoke that much and still manage to function normally. Or, well, somewhat normally.”

“Do you know where he’s getting it?”

She shakes her head. “Trevor wasn’t the only dealer Mike knew. It would be easy as a phone call if he really wanted it.”

Of course. Deep down Harvey knew this was true, but it still hurts to hear it. That after everything they’d been through, after every precaution, after every long week they spent apart while Mike learned to live without Subspace, it’s still as easy as a _phone call_.

“So, have you ever heard of Freedom House?” Jenny asks, suddenly sounding nervous.

Harvey had heard of it. He’d looked into it several times the previous year, but each time he’d thought it might be necessary to suggest it, Mike showed huge improvement and the idea would fly out the window.

“It’s a rehabilitation center. Why? What are you suggesting?”

Jenny rubs a hand over her tired face. “Right after Christmas we told Mike we were taking a road trip to see my parents in Nevada. But we weren’t, we were checking ourselves in for Subspace rehab.” She comes into the little office and takes a seat in the leather chair by the door. “It’s not fancy and I certainly don’t miss the food,” she smiles, “but it works. I think Mike should go.”

Harvey blinks at her. “For how long?”

“It’s three weeks full-time and then another three months of mandatory daily check-ins. It’s a lot more work than it sounds, but it’s worth it. It changed our lives.”

“Yes, but, he’ll be alone. You weren’t.”

She shakes her head. “No, Trevor and I were in different wings. They have a separate section for Doms. I was the lone Subspace representative in a house full of alcoholics and crack addicts. If there’s such a thing as a rehab hierarchy, I was at the bottom.”

Harvey thinks about this, feeling slightly faint, but also encouraged. Like a ray of hope and clarity has suddenly shown over this shit storm. “Will they let me see him?”

“No. But he can start making phone calls on day eight. If he wants to talk, he’ll call.” She smiles.

“Fine. If he agrees, he should go.”

“He already agreed.” Jenny stands and puts a hand on his shoulder. “I’m glad you called us. No one else would have been able to convince him, not even you. But this will really help turn him around. I promise. They help you understand what’s important in life. Mike needs that.”

Harvey nods again, wondering what Mike’s life will look like in three weeks. What will be _important_. He wonders if he’ll still be on the list.

“Will you tell him,” he looks away and clears his throat, “that I love him?”

She nods. “Yeah, of course. He’s waiting downstairs with Trevor in a taxi.”

Harvey stands up and walks her to the door. She leans up and kisses him on the cheek. It reminds him of Donna - god, what he’d give to see Donna right now. “He asked to see you,” she says hesitantly, as if Harvey will yell at her. “He wanted to say sorry for,” she shrugs, “something.”

“And you said no?”

“I was worried he’d see you and change his mind. And I,” she twists her lips and sighs, “I couldn’t let him change his mind.”

Harvey nods. “Thank you, Jenny. You did the right thing.”

She smiles, runs a hand down Harvey’s arm in support, and walks out.

This time when Harvey shuts the door, he feels like he might have done something right for a change. Even if, technically, he didn’t do anything at all.

 

Seven days, eleven hours and forty-three minutes later, Harvey gets a phone call. He’s asleep, or as asleep as he’ll ever be under the circumstances, when he’s jolted up by the rattling vibration of his cell phone. He squints at his alarm clock - 12:08am - then picks up his phone and smiles at the number.

“Mike?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _**WARNINGS: dub-con/non-con, misuse of safe-word, minor character death, bondage, drug use/abuse, ANGST!** _
> 
> _Thank for sticking with me through that! Send me some love to show you're still with me ;)_
> 
> _-Poppy_


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _The bad news - I made you wait a LONG time for this. The good news - I will be posting two chapters this week! Chapter 19 will be posted before the end of the day Friday (PST)._
> 
>  
> 
> _Thanks for putting up with me, you're the best!_

**_Four Days Before The Phone Call_ **

Rachel sits crossed legged in front of Mike’s book shelf flipping through page after page of his paperback novels. Beside her Ethan holds a box of old CDs. He’s opening and closing the plastic cases and checking behind the folds of every paper insert. Occasionally they smile awkwardly at each other.

“Are you sure he won’t mind us helping?” Donna asks. She and Harvey are carefully picking through Mike’s clothes. He has the underwear drawer. She has the socks. Thankfully, Jacob seemed both uninterested in the gathering and unaffected when he wasn’t asked to join. Harvey likes Jacob, but Mike distrusts him and that’s enough reason to remain suspicious. For now.

“You’re his friends, and you all know about the Subspace. He needs all the support he can get.”

Donna nods and unfolds another pair of socks. She reaches down into the toes, wiggles her fingers around, and then sets them aside. “Have you heard from him?”

Harvey shakes his head. “He’ll be allowed to call on Sunday. If he wants.” Harvey had almost been fooled the previous afternoon when he’d seen _Freedom House’s_ number come up on his caller ID. But instead of Mike, it had been a counselor calling to give him “instruction”.

_“I know it seems premature, but you need to start preparing for Mike’s return. Sometimes these things can take a long time,” she’d said. Her voice was professional and decisive, but sweet. Like someone’s mother._

_“What do I need to do.”_

_“First things first,” she’d said, “You need to search your home for Subspace. Mike has admitted that he hides it in his personal belongings.”_

_“Yeah, okay,” Harvey said, feeling exhilarated by the prospect of having something to do. Some way to help. “I can do that.”_

_“We did get his permission to call you, but if you’d like to wait until Sunday when he’s allowed telephone rights, you can have him confirm his consent.”_

_He’s glad that Mike is open to having Harvey go through his things, but even if he weren’t, it has to be done. “I’ll start tomorrow.”_

_“Be thorough, Mr. Specter. Look everywhere. Even if it seems unlikely. Call us when you’ve completed your search and we’ll send a certified disposal team.”_

Ethan holds up a joint with a triumphant smile. They’ve been at this for hours but until now, Harvey’s the only one who’d found anything - a small plastic bag of unrolled Subspace in an empty bottle of Advil. 

Rachel stares at Ethan with a frown. “Don’t look so happy about it,” she says. “This is serious.”

He rolls his eyes and plops down on the ground. “God, you’re such a killjoy. What’s the harm in making a game of it?” He perks up at his own idea. “Harvey! Remember that time you bet I couldn’t make you come four times in one night and I totally won?”

Harvey blushes, Donna smirks, and Rachel glares. “Ethan, Rachel doesn’t know we slept together _before_ I was with Mike.”

He glances over at Rachel, flaps a hand at her, and continues. “And as a prize you gave me one of those, one of those,” he snaps his fingers, thinking. 

“Blow jobs?” Donna suggests seriously. Rachel busts out in laughter. Even Harvey smiles. After spending so much time missing Mike, it’s nice to be in the company of friends.

“I gave you a Keurig,” Harvey says with a chuckle, “and that’s because I wasn’t using it and you’d been bitching all day about how the coffee shop wouldn’t let you drink the product until your break at ten. I would have given it to you regardless.”

“Yeah!” he says. “That thing’s awesome! We should make it into a game. Whoever finds the most Subspace wins a Keurig.”

Rachel rolls onto her side and clutches her belly. Her laughter is starting to turn into uncontrollable hiccuping hysterics. 

“I don’t think Mike would appreciate that.”

“He won’t care,” Ethan whines, “Mike has a sense of humor. _Please?_ This is soooo boring.”

Donna looks over at Harvey. “I won’t tell,” she says. 

Harvey rolls his eyes and relents. “Fine. There’s a new food processor we haven’t opened. Whoever finds the most Subspace gets it.”

Ethan cheers and Rachel flops onto her back, heaving for breath and giggling. 

“And if any of you tells Mike about this, I’ll kill you.”

In the end, Harvey finds three joints and a second bag of Subspace. Donna finds two joints and Rachel, who never really approved of the game to begin with, pretended to be unfazed when she only managed to find one almost empty bag. 

“Does this mean I win?” Ethan asks with a smile. He has six joints lined up on Mike’s kitchen table. He’d have lost miserably if he hadn’t been the first to search the bathroom where Mike had hidden three joints, all in a plastic toothbrush holder.

“Technically I found more,” Harvey says, pointing to the much larger bags in his pile, “in terms of quantity. But you found the most hiding spots, so, yes.”

Ethan throws up his fist and runs into Harvey’s kitchen to look for the food processor. Rachel rolls her eyes and excuses herself to use the bathroom.

“How’s it going?” Donna asks. She’s gathering up their bags and is putting on her blazer. 

“Well, I still don’t know who ratted us out,” Harvey says, “but Darby has agreed to sign-on with me if I start my own firm. His business alone will be enough to get off the ground and his reputation is more than enough to draw in more business.” Harvey nods. “I think it’ll work.”

Donna purses her lips and nods. “Good, that’s really good. But that’s not what I was asking.”

Harvey looks away. “How do you think it’s going? I don’t even know what they’re doing to him. It’s like Italy all over again and I,” he shrugs, “I’m not as tough as I’d like to be.”

“They’re making him sleep a lot, go to countless concealing sessions and support groups, take long walks and play soccer and shuffle board, but they’re not torturing him. He’s safe there.”

Harvey nods. “Yeah, I know. I want him better and I want him happy, but I also want him here, with me.”

Donna touches his hand where it rests on the table. She looks over Harvey’s shoulder at the door to ensure their privacy before stepping forward. “What happened?”

He blinks. “His grandmother died, he lost his job and he was outed all in one day. I hardly blame him for relapsing.”

“No,” she’s shaking her head. “You’re guilty about something. I can tell. What happened?”

He stares at her caring and encouraging face, almost tempted to confess. “I don’t want to talk about it.” He tries to step away but Donna grabs his hand and holds on. 

“Harvey,” she threatens. “I’m your best friend. You’ll feel better if you talk about it.”

“I doubt that.”

When her steely gaze refuses to relent and her grip tightens, Harvey exhales in defeat. He begins by telling her about Mike’s melt down after the funeral, his out-of-character behavior and his insistence that being tied up would ‘slow down his head’.

Donna’s eyebrows are knit and her lips tight. She’s thinking. “And then what happened?”

“When he was tired of it, as if a scene is somehow a thing he can turn on and off at will, he safeworded out. But he did it like it was a challenge,” Harvey whispers. “Like he was challenging me to call his bluff. At least, that’s what I thought at the time. But now… I don’t know.”

Donna’s eyes widen. “You ignored it?”

Harvey’s jaw clenches. “I walked away. I shut the door on him, Donna. Who does that? What kind of fucking lunatic does that?” He’s getting choked up. “I can’t even think about the state he was in when I finally got my head together and untied him. “He was… He was _terrified_.”

Donna nods, her expression betraying her shock. 

“I don’t need you to tell me it’s okay. I know it’s not.”

Just then Rachel strolls back in. She picks up her bag and while idly clicking through her phone, she looks up, sees them, and stops.

“Be a good girl and entertain Ethan,” Donna says while ushering her out. “I’m talking to Harvey.” Rachel groans as the door closes on her.

Donna sits on the couch and pats the seat beside her. Harvey rolls his eyes but plops down anyway. He puts a couple feet between them to avoid anything sentimental like knee pats and hand holding.

“You’re right, I’m not going to say it’s okay, because even though I think there are countless extenuating circumstances complicating this, I know that if it happened to me, I wouldn’t be okay.”

He nods. It’s not helpful advice, exactly, but the honesty is comforting. And besides, it feels good to tell someone and find that they don’t immediately hate him for it.

“What should I do?”

Donna looks away, thinking.

“Have you ever talked to Jessica,” she says slowly, “about why she doesn’t take on Subs anymore.” Donna’s biting her lip and looks vaguely spooked, like she might have just mispoke.

“What do you mean?” he asks. “She swore off relationships after Carl died.”

“Yeah, I know, but haven’t you ever wondered… I mean, haven’t you ever asked…”

“Donna, what is it? I don’t see how this is supposed to help.”

“Well,” she shrugs, looking awkward and tongue-tied. “I just think you should consider, you know, chatting with Jessica over coffee or something.”

Harvey barks out a laugh and stands, suddenly not wanting to be quite so intimate with a person who’s clearly lost their mind. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but you’ve got to be insane. If you remember, the last time I spoke to Jessica it was over my,” he holds up his fingers in a quote-off-quote gesture, “resignation papers. I can’t think of anyone with whom I’d be less interested in discussing my greatest inadequacies.”

Donna holds up her hands and shrugs like it’s Harvey’s loss. “Jessica was like a mother to you, Harvey. You used to tell her everything. You used to be close.”

“That’s all over now.”

She stands and swings her bag over one shoulder, “Well, that’s my advice. If you don’t want to take it, that’s fine.” She sounds exasperated and vaguely pissed off. Harvey stands, hands on his hips, still flushed with the humiliation of his admission. She steps close to him and pokes a sharp manicured nail at his chest. “My ways aren’t always conventional,” she says. “But I never do anything without reason. Remember that.”

 

 

The next evening, against his better judgment and sense of self preservation, Harvey lets himself into the Pearson Hardman building with the key card no one thought to take from him. On Thursday nights Jessica always stays late. Later, usually, than anyone else in the office. She says it frees up her weekend and allows her to leave early on Fridays. Harvey admires her effort, but four out of five times something new inevitably comes up that keeps Jessica sitting behind her desk on Fridays with a carton of take-out sushi and strong espresso.

Walking through his old office gives him a pain of home-sickness and regret. Especially on a night when everything is quiet and the lighting is dimmed to a soft, almost romantic hue, he can’t help but mourn his past like a lost friend.

Turning the corner Harvey is not surprised to find Jessica leaning over her desk flipping through paperwork spread across the surface. Her heels are off and he can see her small stockinged feet. Her usually well ironed and perfectly tucked suit is hanging open and her skirt is hiking up her thighs. She looks ordinary, soft and approachable. Harvey, however, knows better than to be comforted by her easy appearance. Jessica has the alarming ability to turn into a lioness at the precise moment you’ve started to feel safe. Even when steeled against her overwhelming dominance, Harvey can find himself suddenly understanding what a Sub feels when they, without any prompting, suddenly find themselves on their knees. It’s scary to think about. Honestly, he has no idea what possessed him to do this.

Stepping up carefully to Jessica’s open door, he knocks. Anyone else would turn around, startled. But Jessica - she simply lifts herself up, pulls her shoulders back and turns, carefully and with measured control. Something like surprise flashes across her eyes, but it doesn’t show in her expression.

“Mr. Specter. What can I help you with?”

“Mr. Specter?” Harvey says, stepping in. He smiles. Before coming here at Donna’s frankly lunatic advice, Harvey decided that he would either rise above his fear of Jessica’s superior dominance, or leave. He refuses to broach such a delicate subject with someone who looks at him as anything less than an equal. Harvey shrugs off his casual jacket and lays it over the arm of her couch. He sits and props one foot on his jean clad knee.

Jessica puts one hand on her desk and leans toward him. “You’re not invited to sit.”

“I know why you’re angry.”

“You’d better know why I’m angry. Having already proved reckless and foolhardy, I’d hate to realize that you’re also an idiot.”

Harvey smiles and leans forward to take a wrapped chocolate from the crystal dish on the coffee table. While unwrapping it, the foil making a loud crinkling noise, he looks again at her and points to the seat opposite. “I thought we could talk.”

“Are you trying to intimidate me, Harvey? Because it won’t work and I certainly don’t have another second to spare for your bullshit. You’ve caused me more trouble than you could possibly…” she turns her head away and gulps. If Harvey didn’t know better, he’d think she was swallowing a sob.

“I’m not trying to intimate you,” he says. Sitting forward, arms on knees, hands folded, he takes the plunge. “I won’t beat around the bush. I’m in trouble and someone told me that you might be able to help. I might be making a fool of myself, but I thought - well, if this isn’t the time to take risks, when is? Besides, we used to be close.”

“A long time ago.”

“I remember. You even used to let me work in your office, remember? Before I made partner. One time I fell asleep on the couch,” he looks down, “this couch, and you just covered me up and let me sleep through the night. When I woke someone had brought a latte and cheese danish. Was that you?”

She blinks at him and then, remarkably, she nods. 

“I miss that.”

“You were younger then, you needed guidance. And you hadn’t betrayed me. We can’t return to those times, Harvey.”

“No, I guess not.” He looks down at his hands and the piece of foil he’s been nervously folding and unfolding. “Have I,” he begins, “have I apologized to you? For everything”

“For everything?” She asks with a laugh that holds no humor at all. “For lying to me? For breaking the law right under my nose? For risking scandal and controversy and disgrace to a firm I thought you loved? Or maybe you’re wondering if you’ve apologized for costing me a small fortune burying your fuck up. No, Harvey, you haven’t apologized for that.”

He frowns. Her outburst doesn’t surprise him in the least, but something else she said does. “Cover up? What cover up? What are you talking about?”

Jessica steps closer. Her expression is tight. “Do you have any idea how much money, how much of _my_ money, I had to spend to keep you out of the papers. To keep this firm’s name unconnected to an international abuse charge.”

“Abuse charge?” Harvey says, his mind reeling. Feeling like a fool it suddenly occurs to him what should have always been obvious. How had he forgotten? Why hadn’t he thought of it? Distracted by his myriad of other concerns about speaking with Jessica, how had he forgotten that she, more than anyone else, would know how his secret came to light. She would know who the rat was. With a red face and balled fists, Harvey stands. “Who was it? Who told you?”

She cocks her head and frowns. “You don’t know? You mean to tell me, Harvey, that you spent three days under civil detention in Italy and you don’t know?” 

Harvey feels a flush of hot clarity wash over him, making him dizzy. “They contacted you,” he says matter-of-factly. 

“Of course they contacted me. I was listed as the employer of both you and Mr. Ross. I was forced to participate in _four_ grueling interviews, during all of which I vouched for your character, knowing full well that you’d lied to me. That you’d betrayed every ounce of trust I thought I’d earned. Not to mention that spectacular professional failure I’d only barely forgiven you for. Peter Leavitt was my _best_ client, Harvey!” She takes three big steps closer until she’s right in his face. “ I could have had you arrested. I could have had you thrown in an Italian prison, but I didn’t. I guaranteed that you and your boy were returned home safely, and to top it all off, I paid the reporters who showed up here salivating over the prospect of scandal. You’d have made a great headline - _Star New York Attorney Held Abroad for Alleged Domestic Abuse_.”

Harvey falls back on the couch with a thud.

“I may never forgive you for this, Harvey, but don’t you _dare_ accuse me of not caring.”

“I think I’m going to be sick,” he says.

“Good.”

She spins around and throws herself, somewhat dramatically into her office chair. It might be the least graceful move Harvey’s ever witnessed from his usually supremely in-control boss. He takes a long shuddery breath and feels the sickness dissolve on exhale.

“I guess I have more to thank you for than I thought.”

“Yes.”

They stare at each other, both searching for the proper words for a situation like this. Harvey turns away. “It was a mistake to come here.”

“Yes. And why did you? We have nothing more to say to each other.”

Now understanding what Jessica knows about Italy, about Mike, about _him_ , Harvey realizes how impossible it would be to tell her what happened several nights earlier. Fuck Donna’s intuition. He’s bared more of the worst of himself to this woman than he ever wishes to. He’s not about to reveal anything more. “You’re right,” he says. “I’d hoped that… actually, I don’t know what I hoped. Sometimes it’s hard to believe that people can leave your life so quickly. But, I guess that’s just how it works.”

Jessica’s eyes drop to her lap. “I heard somewhere that you have an arrangement with Darby Enterprises.” Harvey says nothing so she continues. “Edward is a great businessman, I can’t think of a better connection, should you decide to start out on your own.”

He looks away and gazes through the large windows and their sweeping views of the city. “I hope you mean that. Because I couldn’t bear to think that you’d try to sabotage me. Even after everything, I deserve a chance.”

She rolls out her chair and stands. Harvey takes the cue to do the same. He can sense the impending dismissal. From her desk drawer she pulls out an envelope. “I wish things had been different, but since they are what they are, I suggest we both move on. Leave Pearson Hardman out of your life, and I’ll leave you out of mine.” She holds out the envelope. “Tell Mr. Ross that he has great potential, and should he decide to apply to law school and attain proper qualifications, he has my letter of recommendation.” Harvey looks down at the sealed envelope with shock. Across one corner is the Pearson Hardman insignia embossed with foil. “Michael was the best intern we’ve ever had,” she says, with a firm emphasis on the word _intern_. 

Harvey takes the envelope and slips it into his pocket. “Thank you, Jessica.”

“I wish you all the best.”

Although she doesn’t offer her hand, Harvey can tell that she means it.

 

 

The evening before Mike is allowed telephone rights, Harvey sits alone in his apartment sipping on a glass of bourbon and listening to a record that he now realizes might have been far too melancholy for a night like this. His cell phone buzzes on the armrest of his chair.

DONNA: _Don’t drink too much_

HARVEY: _Leave me alone. Besides, I’m not drinking._

DONNA: _Harvey. How much have you had?_

HARVEY: _Two glasses. LEAVE ME ALONE!_

The truth is that he hasn’t even finished his second, and doesn’t plan to, but Donna wouldn’t believe him. Ever since the safeword incident, Harvey has been careful, very careful, to keep himself sober in every regard. 

DONNA: _He’s going to call._

HARVEY: _You don’t know that. And even if he does, it’s not like I have anything to say that can fix this._

DONNA: _Tell him you love him and that you’re sorry. Tell him that you can’t wait to see him again. That’s all anyone would want to hear._

HARVEY: _He might not call._

DONNA: _He’ll call, Harvey. Go to sleep._

Harvey glares down at the text, sighs, and does as he’s told.

 

 

Somehow, Harvey does manage to fall asleep. When he awakes to his phone buzzing on the bedside table, he can’t stop the smile from blossoming across his face. It’s a little after midnight - 12:08 to be exact -and when he snatches up the phone and sees the clinic’s number in the caller ID, a flush of happiness, love and hope wash over him.

“Mike?”

“They said I should wait until morning, but I basically just stood by the phone and refused to eat until they let me call you.”

Harvey smiles so wide his cheeks hurt. “I’m glad you did. I mean, I’m glad you called, but you shouldn’t resort to hunger strikes.”

“It’s fine. This isn’t prison, they’ll feed me if I loiter around the kitchen looking pitiful.”

Harvey curls back down into bed and holds the phone against his ear. “Are they treating you well?” 

“Yeah, it’s fine. It’s, you know, exactly what I was expecting.”

“What were you expecting?” He realizes then that he has no clue what Mike would have thought about rehab. They never spoke about it. As far as he knew, Mike would have rather gorged his eye out than submit himself to a month of deprivation and clinical observation.

“I was expecting to have long uncomfortable conversations about my life, eat jello and pretend to make friends with a bunch of crazy people.”

“Crazy people? It can’t be that bad, they’re just trying to get back on their feet.”

“Yeah, most people are. But whenever you’re stuck in a confined space with strangers, you’ll inevitably find at least one nutcase. Haven’t you ever seen, like, any movie ever made about this kind of thing?”

“I’m sorry,” he says, trying to sound more serious than amused. “You’re absolutely right. I need to expand my film knowledge.”

“It doesn’t matter anyway, they’re on their way out.”

“And you?” Harvey says. “Only two more weeks.”

“Yeah.”

“Mike, I…” he pauses, unsure how to proceed. There’s so much he needs to say, and yet the words seem stuck in his throat. Even when he tries to think about it, tries to rehearse what he wants to say, the apology gets trapped up in his head.

“Jenny said the worst thing would be the food,” Mike continues, like he hadn’t heard Harvey’s awkward opener, “but I must have the worst palate in the world, because I love it. There’s sloppy joes and cheap pizza. They make macaroni casserole, and I swear to god that yesterday I ate chicken nuggets in the shape of dinosaurs. My roommate thinks they were just freakishly misshapen, but I don’t care. I loved it.”

Harvey smiles, wishing that he could feel Mike’s cheek against his fingers. Wishing that he could hold him. The familiar yearning is enough to make him sob in defeat. Why is this happening to them again? Why can’t they seem to make this work? Why can’t Harvey fix this?

“Mike I need to apologize to you.”

“No.”

“Mike…”

“No. There’s nothing to apologize for. And I wish you wouldn’t bring that up. Can’t we just talk? I miss you.”

“I miss you too, but that doesn’t mean we can ignore what happened. I screwed up and I need to work through that with you.”

Mike laughs. “You screwed up, but I didn’t?”

“You weren’t yourself and you’re getting help. Besides, there’s no such thing as rehab for shitty Doms.”

“You are NOT shitty,” Mike demands, frustrated. “For fuck’s sake, Harvey, everywhere I turn I’m trying to convince someone who doesn’t know shit about us that my Dom is amazing. Don’t make me convince you too.” 

“Amazing is a gross overstatement.”

“No it’s not.”

He blushes. “Well. It feels like I failed you.”

“Harvey, this is too much to deal with over the phone. Besides,” he pauses, “I’m still detoxing and… I don’t always make the best decisions like this.”

Harvey exhales. Postponing the inevitable should be frustrating, but instead it’s relieving. “Well, when you get back, then.”

“Okay.”

“I love you.” 

It’s silent on the other end. Then - “I love you too.”

“So. Are they letting you watch Game of Thrones?”

“Oh my god, yes!”


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _As you may have noticed that there is now a set total of 22 chapters for "Malpractice". We have two more chapters to go, followed by a lengthy epilogue that will also serve as a teaser and introduction to the third and final fic of the "Subspace" series._
> 
>  
> 
> _Thanks for all the support and encouragement! Enjoy!_
> 
>  
> 
> ~~If you're interested, see the END NOTES for info on working as a beta on my next fic!~~

The night before Harvey is scheduled to pick up Mike, he finds himself on his hands and knees vacuuming the floor beneath the couch. In one hand he grips the long bendy tube with a spout attached that makes a slurping noise whenever it picks something up. His maid almost certainly does this on occasion, and there’s no reason why Mike would notice the cleanliness of the apartment anyway. But if he’s not going to sleep (which he isn’t), he might as well vacuum. Besides, now that he’s not working, Harvey has found that he’s much less fastidious than he’d previously thought.

He’s spoken with Mike for the allotted twenty minutes every evening, but it’s not enough.  He needs to see him.  He needs to hold him and look in his eyes and prove to himself that Mike isn’t broken.  That _he_ didn’t break him.  Though nothing in their conversations would suggest it, Harvey fears that Mike is just biding his time and waiting until they’re alone to break the news.  Surely after three weeks he would have thought about it and realized that Harvey isn’t worth the trouble.  No one would blame him.  Harvey sets down the vacuum hose and rubs at his eyes.  He’s dressed in old jeans and a striped button down shirt with a ripped hem he never bothered to repair. He’s barefoot and sweaty from his obsessive cleaning spree. He wishes he could fall into bed and sleep until he has to wake up and get Mike.  He wants the next eight hours to disappear.

In addition to the sleeplessness, Harvey has been suffering from crippling headaches, appetite loss and mood swings.  An affliction that was more than enough to catch the notice of his friends.  After dinner last Friday with Jacob and Ethan, they’d all three climbed into the back of a Jacob’s limousine.  As a rule, limos are too showy for Harvey’s tastes, but when a group exceeds two, the extra space is appreciated.

He briefly notices a wordless communication between his dinner partners before Ethan is crawling into Harvey’s lap and tucking his head under his chin. Harvey looks up startled at Jacob and receives a kind smile and a nod.

“You are not cheating,” he says in his soft lilting accent. “You are merely accepting the help of friends. Mike would understand, I think.”

Feeling awkward, Harvey lets his arms rest lightly against Ethan’s back, and because the temptation is far too strong, he lets himself tuck his nose into the Sub’s fragrant neck and inhale.  They sit like this - holding each other securely but without passion - all the way to Harvey’s apartment.  The ride only takes twenty minutes, but its enough to clear some of the fog from his head and settle the roiling sensation in his stomach.  Ethan sits up, pecks him on the cheek, and moves back to his seat beside Jacob.

“Thanks,” Harvey says, feeling too relaxed to be embarrassed.  “I mean it.”

For two weeks, Harvey has been waiting with nervous anticipation for his appointment to pick up Mike - 9am, Sunday. The date had been set and confirmed with Mike’s counselor who assured him that his Sub completed the program honorably and without any unanticipated hiccups.  

_“He’s very motivated,” she’d said several days ago during a debriefing Mike had approved at Harvey’s request,  “determined and, well… acceptably open to seeking help.”  The humor in her voice made it clear that this is hardly something to worry about, but Harvey was concerned nonetheless._

_“What do you mean, acceptably open?”_

_“Michael would prefer to deal with the less pleasant side effects of detox on his own.  This, of course, is not healthy.”_

_“What side effects?”_

_“Subs must accept exposure to natural dominant pheromones during this process,” she’d said. “Otherwise they are at high risk of relapsing, sometimes very quickly.”_

_“I see.”  Harvey felt a sinking feeling of guilt.  He’d accepted the attention of Ethan without a fight, while Mike was refusing to do the same.  “You convinced him otherwise?”_

_“Don’t worry Mr. Specter. It’s all very innocent.  We simply encourage our patients to conduct their counseling sessions on their knees near our chairs, as opposed to using the couches.  I can assure you that Michael will still be very anxious to reunite with you.”_

_This comment made Harvey wonder, not for the first time, what Mike had revealed to this woman about that night several weeks before.  If she can recommend that Mike return to Harvey without hesitation, what wasn’t she told?_

When Harvey finally sucks up the last tiny dust bunny and guarantees with a swipe of his finger that the floor has his white glove approval, he crawls back, switches off the vacuum, and kneels up.

“Hey.”

Harvey falls back on his hip with a curse. “Holy shit.”  Mike smiles down at him from where he’s been standing, leaning eagerly over the kitchen counter.

“Mike.”

“I thought I’d surprise you,” he says with a little bounce in his step.  He tosses his duffle bag onto the floor and launches himself across the room.  Harvey catches him as they both fall back into the couch, Mike kneeling over him. “And I couldn’t wait another second.  I technically completed the program at midnight so I decided - Hey, I’m a big boy, I can hail a cab.”

Harvey is still dumbstruck as he watches his Sub talk animately about his surprise.  He looks at his bright alert eyes, his genuine smile, and notices that Mike’s complexion has a rare but healthy glow, like he’d been spending time in the sun.

“Oh! And I brought you something!” Mike moves to stand but Harvey holds onto his hand.  Mike frowns down at him.  “You shouldn’t cry,” he worries, swiping a finger across Harvey’s cheek.  “I thought you’d be happy.”

“Happy doesn’t describe it.”

Mike smiles sweetly and runs a hand down Harvey chest, resting his palm finally over his quickly beating heart. “By the way, why are you cleaning? It looks like you’ve been trying to cover up a murder.”  He looks around at the bottles of bleach and Lysol and Febreeze. 

“I needed to do something. For you.”

Mike blushes. “Oh. Well, thank you.”

“So are you going to kiss me, or -”

Mike swoops in and captures his lips in a kiss so bruising Harvey has to hold on and ride it out. The pure joy mixed with excited energy is infectious.  When they break apart they’re laughing.  

“God, I missed you,” Mike says while pulling off his jacket, and then his shirt.  He reaches for Harvey’s buttons, but upon seeing the poor state of his clothes he smiles mischievously, grabs two handfuls, and pulls.  At first nothing happens.  He frowns and Harvey snorts. “That always works in the movies.”

“You’re not strong enough.  Besides I don’t buy shirts with buttons that rip-“

Mike grits his teeth and yanks again for everything he’s worth.  The fabric separates and the buttons clink across the floor. 

“Bravo,” Harvey says with a laugh. 

“Thanks.”

This time, when Mike recaptures his mouth, he rolls his hips and runs his nails down Harvey’s scalp, giving him chills.  The sensation of Mike on top of him, taking the lead, is strange but not altogether unpleasant. Holding his Sub against his body is too blissful to think about trivialities. 

Mike stands up just long enough to rid himself of his jeans before dropping to his knees with an eagerness unlike Harvey has ever seen before.  His cock is released with impatient fingers and engulfed in one hot swallow.  The groan of pleasure has Harvey thrusting up into Mike’s mouth and biting his knuckles to keep himself from coming too quickly. Mike presses down and hums around Harvey’s length until he can’t take it anymore and he’s pulling Mike up by the hair.

“Bedroom?”

Mike shakes his head and returns to his position straddling Harvey’s hips.  “I want you like this.”

Harvey looks down at their position and frowns.  It’s not that he disproves, exactly.  In fact, at the moment he’d take Mike any way he can get him, but nevertheless - Harvey has only let a Sub ride him once… no, twice.  Once because he was helping a young Sub to explore their dominant curiosity, and another time with Scottie. But the memory of that experience is hardly pleasant.

Seeing the look of thinly veiled nervousness as Mike awaits Harvey’s approval, he smiles, runs his hand around Mike’s hips and grabs his ass cheeks.

“Well then, get on with it.”

Mike smiles broadly and kneels up.  He spreads his legs wider and reaches across the couch to pull the lubricant from the side drawer and toss it in Harvey’s lap.

He wastes no time wetting his fingers and thrusting them between Mike’s cheeks. With a groan and a sigh, Mike bears down on the intrusion. 

“God, that feels amazing.”

While keeping his fingers stiff and erect for Mike to fuck himself on, Harvey observes a subtle shift in his lover. Although the sense of enjoyment remains, where Mike used to seem helpless to his body’s reactions, as if he might be carried away at any moment with no way of stopping it, he now seems confident, like he has a firm grip around his pleasure and will milk it for all it’s worth. After a year of coaching, something seems to have clicked and suddenly Mike is self-assured.  The change is intoxicating, yet disconcerting.

Shaking the thought from his head Harvey hurriedly prepares himself through the V of his jeans.  Mike looks down, open mouthed and panting.  When Harvey finally removes his hand and positions himself, Mike sides off his fingers and onto his cock in an move so elegant and smooth it would make even Ethan envious.  He throws his head back and moans. 

“I missed this.”

“Me too,” Harvey says, “you can’t imagine how I’ve missed you.”

Mike groans. Lifting himself up he gently slides down and rocks forward to seek the sweet spot.  Harvey holds him steadily across the back and lets the other hand explore Mike’s smooth backside as it bounces up and down rhythmically.

“I wanna suck on something,” Mike says.  He leans in and fastens on a bite of Harvey’s neck. “Can I?”

“It’s not like I have to keep up appearances at the office,” he pants.

Mike doesn’t reply, he just bites down and sucks sloppily on the skin where Harvey’s neck meets his shoulder. After a while Mike seems to lose focus. His thrusts falter and then stop completely.  He’s sucking hard and rocking back and forth, thoroughly enjoying himself but driving Harvey crazy with need.

“Mike, look at me.” He obediently detaches and meets Harvey’s eye. “I want to see if you can come without touching your cock.”

Mike grins.  “Are you sure? Do you think you have the staying power for that kind of experiment, Harvey?”

His eyebrows raise in challenge. “Are you betting that I’ll come before you?”

“Yeah,” he says with a laugh. “Two hundred bucks.”

Harvey whistles.  “Let’s make it a hundred, we’re both out of work.”

“Oh yeah,” Mike says as he raises himself up and and slams back down.  Harvey hisses and bites the inside of his cheek.  “Well at least we’ll have lots more time for this, huh?”

 

 

Harvey is still catching his breath as he sits, sprawled out over the couch with his ripped shirt still open over his chest.  Mike lays with his head on Harvey’s knee staring appreciatively at Harvey’s exhausted cock laying in his open jeans.

“That was so fucking awesome.”

“You lost a hundred bucks,” Harvey says with a grin.

“So totally worth it.”

They both laugh.

Harvey runs a hand along Mike’s sweat soaked hair and then down his cheek to lay possessively over his neck, which still sports the lines of a long worn collar. Mike goes still and silent at the touch so Harvey removes his hand.

“I worried that you wouldn’t come back to me,” Harvey whispers.

Mike flips over and blinks up at him.  He licks his lips and seems lost in thought. “Why? I love you and I… I want to be with you.”

Harvey’s chest flutters happily. 

“I have a question,” Mike says quietly, not looking up at him.  “A really important question.”

“Okay.”

“When we were,” he pauses, “separated.” Harvey can sense the weightiness of the question Mike is about to ask and it terrifies him.  “Was I worth waiting for?” Mike’s eyes slowly open and lift to meet Harvey’s.  His jaw is clenched and his cheeks are paling.

“Of course you were,” Harvey says. “I’d wait forever for you. You’re mine, Mike.”

He smiles softly and nods. 

Later, in bed and in the dark, the significance is not lost on either of them when Harvey lays his Sub out on the bed in the same place he’d been that night, and proceeds in worshiping his lover’s body.  He holds Mike’s wrists above his head with care and then releases them to stroke with adoration over his entire body.

“You’re perfect,” Harvey says with his lips against Mike’s flat belly. “Of course you were worth it. Of course.”  Mike groans when Harvey brushes his cheek against his cock and then takes him completely into his mouth.  When Mike’s thighs begin to tremble and he seems to be struggling to keep his hands above his head, Harvey pushes the legs up until they’re pressed against Mike’s chest.  Then, because he knows Mike loves it, he swipes his tongue up the hot cleft and listens with pleasure to his Sub’s pleading moans.

By the time they’ve drunk their fill of each other, the sun is just starting to lighten the sky.

They lay together, wrapped close in each other’s arms, fighting off sleep in favor of touching each other, kissing, and just… looking.

“I guess we should talk,” Mike says hesitantly.

“Yes, we should.”

Mike nods.  “I know you think you have something to apologize for, which you don’t. But… but since I doubt I can convince you, you might as well go ahead.”

Harvey runs a hand through Mike’s hair, stroking him and encouraging him to meet his eyes. “Look at me.”

The brown eyes meet his hesitantly.  

“I’m sorry I betrayed your trust.  It was one of the greatest mistakes of my life, walking away from you like that.”

Mike just blinks at him, jaw tense, and nods.  “You’re forgiven.  Can we move on now? I don’t want this to keep coming up.”

“I’m afraid of hurting you,” Harvey says.  As soon as the words leave his mouth they surprise him.  Whenever he’d rehearsed this, his concerns had always manifested in some variation of - I promise to never hurt you.  And yet, fear is really what has been haunting him.  The fear that a promise won’t be enough to keep Mike from getting hurt.  So far, none of Harvey’s promises have protected him absolutely. And that’s the really scary part.

Mike’s eyes flutter up to meet his and then drop back down.  “You didn’t hurt me.”

“Yes, I did. I terrified you.”

Mike licks his lips and curls in closer to Harvey’s with one arm around his waist. “Harvey, I was already terrified.  You have no idea.” Harvey rubs up and down his back.  “I’d taken so much Subspace.  Three, four, even _five_ times more than I’d ever had.  I was terrified of what I was doing and of my inability to stop. I was terrified of what you’d think if,” he looks away, “ _when_ you found out. I wish I hadn’t safeworded and I wish you hadn’t walked out.  But only because I know how you’re punishing yourself for it.  But I’m not sorry you did it.  I needed the shock to wake the fuck up.”

Harvey tilts up Mike’s face and and kisses him gently.  “We’ve had a rough road, haven’t we?”

He nods.  “Do you…” he gulps. “Do you forgive me?”

“What for, baby?”

Mike runs a hand down his face and sniffles. “For going back to that shit instead of you.”  The misery and honesty of his apology makes Harvey’s throat tighten up and his heart lurch.  He leans up and looks down at Mike’s tear soaked eyes and scrunched up face.  

“I forgive you. Of course, I do. Just don’t cry, I can’t stand seeing you cry.” 

Mike sniffs back tears with a few messy gulping breaths and nods.

“What did I tell you when I collared you?” Harvey asks.  He puts his hand over Mike’s throat where his collar should be. “Do you remember?”

Mike blinks and clenches his eyes, trying to think back through all the emotion. “You said, uhm, you said that you promised to protect and guide me as long as I chose to wear it.”  He sniffles again and turns his head away with a small throaty sob.

“I need to know if you still belong to me. Collar or not, I’ll always love you, but I need some guarantee that you’re still with me.  That you still trust me to take care of you, no matter what happens. I won’t lie, Mike, it’s becoming too painful wondering.  You need to tell me what you want from me.”

The stark honesty of his admission startles him, but he’d glad it’s in the open.  If he’s going to lose his Sub, he needs to know now so he can start grieving.  He’s already at one of the lowest points in his life, if everything is going to fall apart, this is as good a time as any.

“I do want it,” Mike says.  His voice is raspy but eager with sincerity. “I love being yours and I love wearing your collar.”

Harvey smiles and strokes again over his throat. “Good. That’s good. I’ve missed seeing you in it.”

“I do, but I also want to go to law school.”  He words burst from his mouth a little too loudly as if he’s been bottling them up. His eyes are wide and unsure.

Harvey snorts and smiles.  “Okay. Well, great! I want you to get a degree, Mike, you’ll have my full support. I told you about Jessica’s letter, didn’t I?”

He nods.

“You’ll get into any school in New York.  NYU has an excellent -“

Mike is shaking his head. “No, Harvey. I don’t want to go to NYU. I want to go to UC Berkeley.”

He stills.  “Berkeley?”

“I finished the application last week, my councilor let me use her computer.  All I need now is the reference.  Berkeley has one of the best admission statistics in the country for submissive applicants.” He’s rambling excitedly with a wide floppy grin.  “And they even have special programs in place to support submissive students and aid in job placement.  Harvey, I won’t have to pretend anymore. I can just be… me.”

Harvey rolls onto his back and looks up at the ceiling. “Well.” He rubs a hand up and down his face.  “Well, I guess I can relocate to San Francisco.”  The possibilities are flying through his head.  None of the ideas are nearly as attractive as staying in New York and starting his own office here, where there are clients who will really make his business great.  But if Mike wants to go to Berkeley, Harvey can make that work.  He owes Mike this opportunity.  “I can’t imagine why Darby would care where my offices are.  The west coast is hot right now.” Harvey takes in a deep inhale and thinks about what it would cost to move.  What it would cost to find someone as good as Donna in an entirely different state.  What it would cost to find pizza as good as the place on the corner near their apartment.

“Harvey.”

He hums, lost in thought.

“Harvey.  I want to go to UC Berkeley.  Alone.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Should you be feeling worried/angry/confused, the comments section below is readily available for all your needs. I will happily provide vague reassurances and guilty apologies ;)_
> 
>  
> 
> _Thank you,_  
>  -Poppy


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _This is a long one! Enjoy!_

“Harvey, you don’t understand!” Mike is chasing behind him, out of the bedroom, tripping over his feet as he pulls on his boxers.

“I understand perfectly,” he shouts back, “those fucking social workers. Meddling cunts.” Harvey wipes at his eyes, thankful that the darkness of the apartment disguises his emotions. He’s perspiring and can feel the sweat trickling down the small of his back and gathering at the elastic of his pajama pants. Mike bumps into something in the hall and curses.

Harvey flicks on the dim light under the kitchen counter just as Mike swings around the doorframe.

“I know. I chose a bad time.” He’s sniffling.

Harvey just glares at him while punching angrily at the coffee maker buttons. It’s still crazy early, at least five hours earlier than he’d wanted to be up the first morning back with Mike. But there’s nothing to be done to get that moment back, so he might as well sacrifice sleep altogether. He’s done it before, many times.

“One of the first things you learn in rehab,” Mike says meekly, “is that keeping secrets is dangerous. Especially from people you love.”

“Oh yeah? And what did they tell you about not being an unfeeling little shit?” 

Mike jaw drops and his expression morphs into something deeply pained. Harvey growls and slams the refrigerator door shut with a curse, then leans against the kitchen counter. “That was uncalled for,” he says.

“It’s okay,” Mike whispers.

Harvey grits his teeth against the urge to throw something. To see something break. To… hit something. He clenches his fists and lets his head fall against the cabinetry. The last time he felt like this Mike decided to become a fucking martyr and practically strung himself up for a whipping and… well, frankly the memory makes him feel too good, and yet somehow guilty. Especially now.

“I want you to be honest with me, Mike, but jesus, you could have picked a better time.”

“I see that now.”

Mike comes up behind him and wraps arms around his waist. He lays his cheek against Harvey’s bare back and exhales.

“I guess telling you how much I love you wouldn’t…”

Harvey gently detangles Mike’s arms and wiggles out of his reach to poke around needlessly for his favorite coffee cup. The one with the stripes.

Mike watches him, his teeth worrying at his bottom lip, while Harvey takes his coffee. He pours a splash of creamer in and then wanders into the still dark living room. He can hear Mike stirring his own cup and then putting everything away. The cupboards open and close. The drawers rattle.

Sitting in the love seat facing the wide widows, Harvey taps his fingers against the side of his hot mug and watches the first glimmers of light as the sun peeks over the buildings.

After a few minutes Mike finally sits next to him. He’s curled up and small as if trying to fold his body together and take up as little space as possible. In his hands he clutches one of those giant soup bowl sized mugs that never fail to make Harvey laugh. But this morning, he can’t even bring himself to smile. Despite the jittery unstable energy radiating off his Sub, begging for someone to wrap him up and steady him, Harvey can’t bear to touch him.

“When I rehearsed asking you, I imagined it differently.”

“Asking? You haven’t asked me anything, Mike. You’ve informed me of your decision. That’s not _asking_. You didn’t consult me. You didn’t ask if I wanted my collared submissive living on the other side of the country. For _three_ fucking years!”

“I know that seems like a long time, but I wouldn’t leave until next September. That’s a whole year to plan.”

“It’s an eternity, Mike. I’d go crazy. I barely made it three weeks, much less three years. Do you get that? Do you stop to think for one second what we go through without you near us?” 

Mike looks sheepish and ashamed. “I know it must have been really hard. I get that.”

“ _Really hard?_ You know it must have been _really hard?_ When you’re not with me, when a Dom’s Sub is not with them, we’re driven mad with worry. All I could think about was you. What you were doing, what _they_ were doing to you. Were you safe, were you happy, were you fed, were you sleeping, were you safe, were you missing me?” Harvey looks away and gulps. “Three weeks and my insides were ready to crawl out if I didn’t get back to you. And you want to take a three year, what? Rumspringa? Our lives are not an experiment. We’re happy. I thought we were happy.” 

As he’s saying it, the falsity in his assumption is reflected in Mike’s pitying expression. A look that says - _No, idiot. No. We’re not happy. Haven’t you been paying attention?_ And like a punch in the gut, like a knock to the head he never saw coming, Harvey knows it’s true. They might love each other, they might crave the security of belonging to each other, but they’re not happy. They haven’t been happy for months.

Mike looks down at his lap. “It would be hard on me too, you know. I’d never ask you to suffer more than I do.” 

Now that’s something, Harvey thinks. Isn’t that the promise nature has made to submissives in designing the biology of dominants? If you’re hurting, nature promises, your Dom will be too. If you’re sad, or anxious or needy, we’ll know. We’ll feel it in our bones and come to the rescue like a knight in shining armor. But it doesn’t always work that way. There are loopholes - dangerous and dark exceptions that nature never intended. 

Find a Sub in a bar, fuck ‘em hard, whip ‘em hard, do whatever you don’t have the stomach to do to your collared submissive, and then send them on their way before the misery starts leaking off them and poisoning you. That’s the grand exception. The shitty, perverse reality of this world and the reason he sometimes _hates_ being what he is. He hates that he knows this. He hates that once or twice, when he was stupid and drunk on the power of being young and successful and good looking, that he’d thought about it. Harvey, the perfect Dom, had sat in the back corner of a Harvard keg party, biting his thumbnail and fantasizing about how easy it would be to take a Sub home and do exactly what he wanted. He would ignore those pesky instincts telling him what to do to satisfy _them_ and instead satisfy himself for a change. Never mind that, no matter what, without fail, satisfying a Sub always ends up satisfying him. Never mind that. What would it feel like if, just once, he tried it a different way. _His way._

This memory terrifies him. It reminds him that even the good ones - the Doms who mean well and never want to hurt anyone, even they are itching with the curious desire to hurt. How can he trust Mike with a world full of _them_. How can he let Mike go and risk that someone like Carl Sandvick, Mike’s middle school rapist, will find him? Fuck. He wouldn’t even trust himself as he was fifteen years ago. College aged Doms, particularly brilliant law students, are dangerous. They have so much dominant superiority they’re overflowing with it, leaking with the slimy desire to rut up against anyone easy and weak and lonely enough to let them.

“What are you thinking?” Mike interrupts.

Harvey looks up at him. “I’m thinking about how much pain I’d endure to make sure you never had to suffer again. You don’t know what you’re asking me, Mike. I don’t _want_ you to suffer as much as I do. I would never want that.”

Mike’s face curls up in pain and he looks away. “Harvey…”

“I had a terrible feeling we were ending,” Harvey confesses. “But I never imagined it would be like this. I’m sorry, Mike, I’m just processing.”

“So… you don’t…” Mike’s eyes are big and watery. “If you don’t want me anymore I understand, but…”

“I didn’t say that.”

With one finger Mike strokes the rim of his coffee cup and chews anxiously on his lip. They sit quietly, Mike wiping at his eyes and Harvey staring out the window. 

“You understand, though, why I need to go alone?”

“No, Mike. I don’t,” he lies. He does know. He might not know exactly what’s going on in Mike’s head, but he knows. His Sub isn’t that scared virgin anymore. He’s a man who, at some point, without Harvey noticing, discovered that independence and freedom aren’t impossible. He might not be saying it, he might not even understand it, but nevertheless, Harvey’s worst fear has been realized - Mike doesn’t need him. Not really. Not like before.

“I know you think I’ve been brainwashed or something. That’s not it at all. I mean, I’ll admit that I’ve had some time to think, and the opportunity to speak with people about worries that I’ve never been able to discuss before. With, you know, someone who isn’t you.” Harvey looks over then and Mike blushes. “Anyway, I’ve been thinking about it for a long time, long before Gran, or getting fired, or Italy even. I’ve been worried about all that time I lost, Harvey. All that time everyone else spent figuring out who they are, and what they want. I never got that. I was so scared of realizing that I might want _this_ , that I might want a Dom, that I never did anything but hide. And now, now that I know what I want my future to look like, and who I want to share it, I want to get some of that time back.” He blinks up at him hopefully. Begging him to understand, but Harvey just stares him down.

“Three years, Harvey. I know it’s asking a lot, maybe too much. But I need to be on my own for a while, or else I don’t think I’ll ever be able to really commit…or _submit_ , to you. At least, not for very long. If I don’t do this, our lives will always be turbulent. I’ll never be able to find contentment as your Sub, and after a while you’ll grow to resent me.”

Harvey grimaces and looks away. “You can’t know that.”

“Well, I know how unhappy I’ll be if I don’t do this. I love you too much to let you waste time on someone who can’t be what you need. And I… well I respect myself too much to let anything get in the way of this opportunity.”

They stare at each other. A stalemate. Neither seeming to have anything more to say as they sit, watching the sunrise and listening to nothing but the sound of Mike sipping cautiously on his coffee.

“It seems your mind is made up,” Harvey says with finality. 

“Yeah, I guess it is.”

“I’ll support your decision to go to Berkeley, but I won’t put my collar on you. A collar is the promise of protection - protection in _my_ name. Thousands of miles and three years do not allow me to do that. I,” he swallows bitterly and blinks back the burning sensation behind his eyes. “I’ll love you and wish you every good thing in the world, but that’s it. That’s all I can give.” He stands up and places his mug down on the table. Mike looks like he’s about to sob. His throat is bobbing and his eyes are blood shot. Harvey walks over and puts a hand on his shoulder. “Don’t misunderstand me. I’m not abandoning you, Mike. I’m just not returning the collar. We can discuss what that means another day.” Mike swallows as if the simple act were the most difficult thing he’s ever done. “I’m going to sleep. I need to rest before I can think any more about this. Join me if you’d like, it’s still your bed.” Harvey squeezes his shoulder until he nods, then leans down to kiss him on the head. 

Shakily, he walks into their bathroom where he throws back a heavy-duty sleeping pill. With a painful groan that seems ripped out of some deep unknown place inside him, he falls into bed, pulls the sheets up to his chin, and within five minutes, fades out.

 

 

The light in the bedroom is orange when Harvey finally wakes. He emerges from sleep slowly, blinking against dry swollen eyes and wincing at the sharp headache threatening at his temples. He rolls over to find Mike nestled, fetal position, in the space beside him. Harvey lays a hand on his shoulder and strokes the warm skin, still sun-kissed from Italy. Mike rolls over and peers up at him sleepily.

“How long have I slept?” Harvey asks, looking out the window, confused by the orange sunset.

“Like, all day,” Mike croaks. “I couldn’t stay awake anymore so I came to bed. Is that… is that okay?”

Harvey nods and allows him to roll into his naked chest. The sensation is good, but he can’t avoid the nagging feeling that he should be pushing him away. Nevertheless, Mike buries his face into his neck, sniffles a couple of times, and starts crying silently.

“You know, you’re going to have to cut back on the tears,” Harvey says gently. “We can’t both be this melancholy.”

Mike hiccups. “I can’t help it. I’ll get over it eventually. Besides, it’s my own fault.”

Harvey strokes his back, fighting the urge to detangle himself and step away. “Sleep more,” he says finally. “If you think you’ll be okay on your own, I’d like to have a drink with Donna.”

Mike shudders and nods. “About… me?”

“Go back to sleep, Mike.”

 

 

“What the fuck?” Donna’s clutching a margarita glass with a grip that threatens to break the stemware in half. 

The happy late-night buzz in the Mexican cantina near Donna’s apartment is already helping to put Harvey in a lighter mood. People are mingling and dark skinned Subs wander about in short skirts and tops stretched tight over defined and sinewy chests. It’s not that he’s ever felt guilty casting his eye about, it’s just that with Mike, he doesn’t have to. 

And now, Harvey can only look at another Sub with the bitterness of a vengeful lover. It’s thrilling, yet completely unsatisfying.

Donna sets down her drink, the iced liquid sloshing dangerously close to the edge. “What the holy fuck is he thinking?”

“He wants to _find_ himself.”

She sits back and stares at him, wide eyed and eyebrow raised. “He did not tell you that.”

Harvey smirks. “No. Not in so many words.”

“I can’t believe this.”

“Neither can I to tell the truth, but what can I do about it? Forbid him? Tell him he _has_ to stay with me? I can’t do that.” He points at her. “You wouldn’t either.”

“No,” she says softly. “But that doesn’t mean I’d be this calm about it.”

“I just slept for twelve hours on heavy medication. It’s the drugs keeping me this calm.”

Music from the stage swells and booms out a loud rhythmic Latin beat, enticing the other patrons to cheer and begin the inevitable trickle onto a small floor where couples pull close together and sway.

“So what are you going to do?” she asks.

Harvey shrugs. “Let him go. What other choice do I have?”

“Fuck,” she swears. “This is so sad. I never thought…”

Harvey takes a swig of his beer and stares down at the table. “He wants to keep wearing my collar.”

Donna looks up, blinking. “And?”

“And I said no, of course. For fuck’s sake, he can’t have his cake and eat it too.”

“Right,” she nods, looking unconvinced.

“What? You think I’m wrong?” he asks, his tone becoming increasingly irritable and loud over the music.

“I brag about giving great advice, but this one is beyond me. I don’t know what the right thing to do is, because, honestly, I don’t think there’s a right way to handle your Sub voluntarily leaving you for three years with some dubious promise of returning at the end of it. That’s just… that’s just fucked up.”

Harvey raises his glass for a toast. “Cheers to that.” They each down another gulp and then stare despondently out at the dance floor.

“Fuck. What do I do, Donna? I love him.”

She looks up at him, blinks, and then looks away. “You decide if he’s worth waiting for.”

 

 

Curled up in bed, his eyes stinging from tears and heavy with too little sleep, Mike clutches his cell phone to his ear. It’s late, the apartment’s quiet and Mike is fidgety and distracted by everything Harvey and Donna must be saying about him.

“I’m being selfish, aren’t I?” 

He can hear Rachel sigh. “Yes. Definitely. But that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t do it.”

Mike nods.

“I just don’t understand why you wouldn’t want him with you. He’s offering to move across the country, Mike. He wants to uproot his entire life for you. I mean, if it were me, I’d want Donna there. Law school is tough. You’ll need all the support you can get.”

Mike bites his lip.

“Tell me,” she says, “tell me what you’re thinking.”

“I love him, but he… he crowds me.”

“What do you mean he crowds you? Doms have a tendency to do that if you haven’t noticed. It’s, like, in their DNA.”

“I know but with Harvey it’s overwhelming. He’s all I can think about. You know, I realized that in the time I’ve been with him, I’ve never really had a moment to just breathe. What if,” he asks while looking around the room, terrified he might be overheard, “what if, despite everything - what if he’s not good for me? How would I know? I’ve never been with anyone else.”

The line is silent. “Mike. I’ve been with dozens of Doms and I’ve never _loved_ anyone. And honestly, even with Donna I’m still trying to decide what it is I feel for her.” She huffs. “Mike, don’t throw away something good, you’ll regret it forever.”

He flops back against the pillows, his knees still tangled up in the sheets. “And if I don’t apply? Wouldn’t I regret that too? Would you?”

“Yeah,” she says solemnly, “I would.”

“So what should I do?”

She exhales. “Well, I guess you have to decide what you’d regret more. Losing Harvey, or losing Berkeley.”

“But,” he argues with increasing desperation. “Why can’t I have both?”

“Mike, listen to me. The hardest part of submission is understanding that there are things you can’t control. You’re going to have to decide if this is what you really want. If it’s worth sacrificing something for.”

He rolls over and curls his knees up to his chest, feeling suddenly like he got it all wrong. Like he’s made some terrible, horrible mistake.

 

 

Sometime later, Harvey flicks off the bathroom light and wanders into the bedroom, Donna’s troubling advice still ringing in his ears. _You decide if he’s worth waiting for. You decide if he’s worth it._

Head pounding and chest tight with emotion, he glances over his shoulder to assure that Mike is still sleeping, then opens the dresser to pull on a pair of boxers and a soft black t-shirt. He tosses the towel in the hamper and begins putting away his things with a balanced and calculated accuracy. Rolex in the glass table-top dish. Cuff links in the drawer. Tie pin in the little box beside the lamp. With a painful exhale he leans heavily against the dresser and stares at his tired face.

He’s too old for this, he thinks. And that’s not something he’d have said a year ago. Hell, even a week ago! But it’s true. Harvey isn’t _young_ anymore. Not like Mike. He no longer wants to take risks or gamble with his future. But Mike’s different. His Sub is young and passionate, eager to taste a still undiscovered life laid out right in front of him. That sense of opportunity is an attractive master, one Harvey can’t hope to compete with. At least, not for long. Mike has sampled what Harvey has to offer and found it, if not wanting, then merely satisfactory. What they don’t tell you at the end of the happily-ever-after is that love can only do so much. It can’t, for example, satisfy the hunger for a life half-led. 

“I tried to wait up for you.” Harvey looks behind him through the mirror and finds the shadowy silhouette of Mike, as disheveled and tear-stained as usual with his legs and arms wrapped up in the blankets like a cocoon. 

“I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“You didn’t. I was hoping to hear you come in.”

Harvey turns and leans against the dresser, suddenly unsure of himself in his own bedroom. The simple act of crawling into bed beside his lover seems enormously difficult.

“I know I don’t have any right to ask it of you, but, do you think I could, uhm,” he looks away shyly, “kneel for you?”

Instead of answering Harvey steps forward until he’s at the bedside with Mike looking up at him, flushed and obediently waiting for direction. He could have slipped to the floor on his own and waited for Harvey’s proffered knee. That’s the behavior Harvey has become accustomed to lately - technically obedient but confident in his own part. _Too_ confident. But now, he’s waiting to be led and it gives Harvey a rush of intoxicating power.

With one hand firmly around the back of his neck, Harvey grips his Sub and steers him off the mattress and onto his knees where he waits bare and vulnerable, head bowed, eyes fluttering, fingers limp with unconscious trust and calm. Soaking in the rare pleasure of this near-perfect submission, the brand of which he’d tried and failed to coax out of Mike in Italy, Harvey sits on the edge of the bed and guides the head he’s still cradling to his knee. Mike presses his cheek to the bare skin there and kisses him. 

Harvey strokes his hair while Mike breathes in and out for a long time. If it weren’t for the nearly silent sniffles emitting from him, Harvey would think Mike had fallen asleep. Nevertheless, despite having no clue what to do next, what to say, how to fix this without ripping one or both of their hearts out in the process, Harvey pets his Sub and waits. And waits. And waits.

“I’m not strong enough for this,” he finally croaks out. The words are nearly unintelligible, but Harvey hears the anguish clearly and it breaks his heart. _He’s right, he’s not strong enough,_ Harvey argues. _He needs me._

But that’s not what he says. He doesn’t say it because there’s another truth-

“You’re wrong. You’re so strong it scares me sometimes. It scares me to love a Sub as smart and confident as you. I need to be needed, Mike, so it scares me to care about someone who’s just told me that they need me to stay _away_ more than they need me to stay _close_.”

Mike turns his face away and sobs.

“Enough of that. You promised to cut back on the tears.”

“No, I ne-ne-never promised. I said I can’t he-he-help it.”

“Take a deep breath and tell me why you don’t think you’re strong enough.”

Mike wipes his nose with his bare palms messily. “Be-be-because when I was at rehab I thought Berkeley was such a g-g-great idea. It’s all I could think about sometimes. I was e-e-excited. Scared, but excited. I imagined getting a little apartment where I’d study and listen to music and c-c-cook.”

“Cook?”

He sucks in air until finally calming down enough to speak. “Maybe not cook, but I’d do the independent Sub thing. I’d have friends over who don’t just want to smoke Subspace and watch CSI. Friends who aren’t just accompanying their Dom to a stupid couples thing.”

“Since when do we do the couples thing?”

“We don’t now, but we _would_. Now that we’re out, Jacob will come over and you two will drink and talk business while Ethan and I kneel on the floor and stare at each other until it’s polite to go into another room and talk in a whisper about Sub topics.”

“That’s a cliché. It’s not always like that.”

“Whatever. And I’m not even saying that I hate the idea, I’m just saying that I’ve never been just _me_ before. I imagined getting everything nice for you to visit me at breaks and during the summer. I imagined introducing you to my new friends. Showing you off.”

Harvey pushes Mike back gently by the shoulder so he can see his face. “You wanted me to visit?”

Mike frowns. “Of course. What did you think?”

“I thought you wanted to be alone.”

“Well yeah, but there are breaks and holidays and stuff. Fuck, did you think I didn’t want to see you _at all_ for three years?”

Although this doesn’t exactly solve anything, Harvey still feels a weight lift off his shoulders. 

“And what else?” Harvey asks. “A few visits a year won’t be enough to keep either of us healthy.” There’s an interest in his voice that hadn’t been there before. He still hates the idea, but for the first time he feels that, should he agree, he might at least survive it.

Mike looks away. “I had some ideas, but… I don’t know if it would work. It’s probably stupid.”

“Tell me.”

“Well, I was thinking of something Scottie told me about that time we saw her in New York.”

Harvey bristles at the unwanted memory of Scottie and her flirtatious infidelity. “You will not troll clubs for companionship. Subs get hurt that way. Often.”

He shakes his head. “No, that’s not what I mean. Scottie and I talked a lot when I was there. She told me about her arrangement with Darby.”

It doesn’t surprise Harvey in the least that Scottie would want to discuss, even brag about her new Dom, but the idea of Mike taking guidance from her is shocking. “And?”

“Well, she was out that night because Darby had just told her that he couldn’t meet her in New York as they’d planned, and that she’d have to wait, like, another month to see him. She was devastated and acting out.”

Harvey’s head is spinning with all this new information, but he focuses on Mike’s words, which are becoming more pronounced and enthusiastic with each breath.

“So because Darby couldn’t be there, he gave her permission to find temporary partners.”

The idea makes Harvey want to vomit and punch something at the same time. “Mike, that kind of generosity is not something I share with Edward.”

“But there were these rules! First, she was only allowed to do it when her need became more than she could handle on her own. Then she had to find someone who knew she was collared and would agree to the arrangement, and finally, she had to report everything back. In detail.”

Harvey blinks a couple times. “And that’s your idea?”

Mike licks his lips. “I don’t know. Yes?”

“Mike, I’d rather come down with a perpetual stomach flu than have to listen to the details of your sexual experience with another Dom. What you describe would be torture.”

Mike blushes in embarrassment and nods. “Okay. I guess I should have known that.”

“And what would you propose I do?”

Mike’s eyebrows raise as if he didn’t think he’d be consulted on the subject. “Uhm. The same thing?”

“You want me to bring home other Subs and then call to tell you all the intimate details? What sounds wrong about that?”

Mike bites his lip. “It sounds like something that would make me raging jealous.”

“And?”

“And,” he sighs as if just realizing the obvious problem in this scenario. “It would be a betrayal of trust for you to discuss another Sub’s scene.” He curls his nose up and grimaces.

“Do you see the dilemma?”

Mike shrugs and shifts uncomfortably, the last shreds of his relaxed obedience slipping away to be replaced by the stubbornness Harvey has come to know, expect and even love.

“It worked for Darby and Scottie,” he says with indignation, “it made them even closer.”

“That’s because Edward and Scottie both have constitutions that thrive in polygamous relationships.”

Mike sighs, defeated and despondent. “You’re right. I was being idealistic and impractical, as always.”

“Withholding information is a dangerous game, but there isn’t much to be done about it in this case.”

Mike looks up at him, wide eyed and alert.

“I don’t want to know who you’re submitting to. I don’t want to know their name, I don’t want to know what they say to you, what they do to you or how you feel about them unless they’ve hurt you. Then I want to know exactly who they are so I can hunt them down.” He’s frowning and his voice is becoming gravely. “I want to have a say in what you’re allowed to do without me and most importantly, I want all those fuckers to know the name of the Dom who put a collar around your neck.” He’s breathing hard and he realizes that he’s grabbed a fistful of Mike’s hair. He looks down to find such a hopeful and adoring look his heart leaps.

“But… but, I thought you said… I thought you said it was non-negotiable?” He’s softly spoken and teary eyed again, but this time with something a lot closer to joy.

“Yeah, well. You didn’t negotiate a thing. I changed my mind. I can do that.”

He nods and then bursts into a huge smile and a series of gleeful and guttural laughs. 

“A collar is about protection, that’s true,” Harvey reasons, “but it’s also about care and support. I made you a promise and I intend to keep it. Besides, a collar provides you better legal protection in the state of California.”

Mike nods, trying to tame the smile into something a little more appropriate for this conversation. He’s failing. 

“Any non-consensual accusations are handled much more severely when a Sub is formally collared.”

Mike nods, his smile now a sort of silly grin. “Wait,” he says after a beat, “that’s fucked up!”

“Yes. But it benefits this arrangement and eases my mind as much as can be expected.”

“So,” he says slowly, “I can apply? I mean… I know I _can_ , but now I have your blessing?”

Harvey bites his cheek. Never before has Harvey said something that he doesn’t believe whole-heartedly. It’s a personal conviction that he’s not about to change now. He’ll make this work, he will. He can make the best of a bad situation, he’s done it before. But that doesn’t mean he has to be happy about it. “We’ll work on your application tomorrow.”

“Yeah, but it’s already done. I mean… I filled it out and wrote all the essays and stuff. I just haven’t submitted it yet.” 

“Mike, if you want to get into a top law school, you’ll let me read through your application and tell you how to make it foolproof. You’re brilliant in person, but we need to make sure you’re just as brilliant on paper.”

Something soft and sincere passes over his Sub’s expression then as if just realizing that Harvey is more than he’d estimated. “Thank you,” he whispers.

“If you’re accepted, which I fully anticipate. We’ll discuss logistics of this… arrangement.” The words are sour on his tongue.

“We should, uhm, have a contract,” he says. “Right?”

“Most definitely. Our previous agreements are no longer relevant. Once we’ve discussed and drafted a new contract, I’ll return your collar. Agreed?”

The smile he’d been suppressing spreads over Mike’s face like a sunrise and he nods, tears of joy gathering at the corners of his eyes.

 

 

Getting back to normal after Mike’s announcement is harder than either of them could have anticipated. Harvey ponders their last months together as he walks the short distance from Darby’s New York office to his apartment. He’d been spending a lot of time there lately preparing with Edward’s UK law team as they make the transition into the US market. Within the next month they will have all gone and Harvey will be left alone to run things. He’s already begun formulating his team – Donna and Rachel being the first additions and only transplants from Pearson Hardman. 

Out of courtesy he’d met with Jessica to ask her permission, but she’d hardly seemed surprised. 

“They’d go with or without my consent,” she’d said. “They don’t want to work for me.”

So far, Donna has been instrumental in organizing the start-up, finding and leasing an acceptable if not slightly extravagant office suite and doing the things Harvey doesn’t have the time or patience for like paint color and paper clips. Rachel on the other hand has become Harvey’s most essential asset. Until he has a small team of associates, her skills are unparalleled in helping keep him afloat legally. It would be easy, even for him, to lose focus. Considering.

After submitting the Berkeley application Mike spent about two weeks pacing the apartment, snatching the mail from Harvey’s hands every morning and checking and re-checking his email before Harvey reminded him, gently, that he’d have several months to wait and should be patient. The news would come when it comes. 

As for their sex life, things have been stagnate. Mike was more than willing, eager even to recommence their physical relationship, but it hasn’t been so easy for Harvey. Every time he begins touching Mike he’s overwhelmed with images of other Doms putting their hands on him. It’s nauseating.

Finally, after nearly two months of this, Mike broke down and begged Harvey to take him to bed. The pain in his pleading was enough to break through Harvey’s misgivings and make him realize that neglecting Mike was paramount to punishment – something he never intended.

And while things are certainly not as easy as they used to be, something like normalcy is returning and Harvey is grateful. Besides, if Mike is accepted, they’ll only have nine months left. He shivers.

It’s becoming cold in New York and Harvey is wrapped up tight in his coat and favorite red scarf. When he walks through the front doors he pulls it from his neck and lays it over his arm. The doorman nods to him as he pulls a key from his pocket and sticks it into the little grey mail door on the back wall. Opening it, as he does every day, he’s surprised to find the small space cramped with a large white envelope, folded slightly to make it fit. Gulping, he pulls it out. Berkeley Law. University of California. 

The contents are thick and heavy and Harvey knows exactly what that means. 

_He’s in._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Thank you for being patient, dear readers. I must say that I feel truly regretful for leaving you with that cliff-hanger - it was probably not my best move. But I thank you for the support and even the criticism. I know I don't always make the most popular decisions with my characters, but they're the right ones for the story, and that's what matters! Besides, I'd never let you down ;)_
> 
> _Thanks again,_
> 
> _-Poppy_


	21. Chapter 21 (Part 1)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay everyone, this is the beginning of the end! 
> 
>  
> 
> **I will be posting the chapter 21 in two parts. You can expect to see part 2 very soon - within 24 hours of this post. The epilogue will go live next week. **

“Well, I certainly couldn’t do it.”

“But you share me all the time!”

“Yes, but that’s an entirely different matter. Just because I like watching you doesn’t mean I would let another Dom fuck you were I not present.”

Ethan blinks at him from across the room. “Who said anything about fucking? You can scene without sex. I mean, just sitting in Harvey’s lap that night in the cab last year… that did something for him. Me too.”

Jacob tilts his head in concession and takes a sip of wine. Ethan is arranging dinner neatly on the dining room table and when his Dom glances over at him, he deliberately pokes his finger into the hollandaise, swirls in around, and brings it to his lips. Jacob’s eyes narrow.

“I don’t care what kind of arrangement they make, Harvey will break eventually and go after him. That’s what Mike would want.” He climbs onto the couch and kneels delicately beside his Dom. Before he touches the fabric with his fingers, Jacob takes his hand with a look of panic and wipes it carefully of residue with the handkerchief he keeps in his pocket. He shakes his head in disapproval and kisses him.

“Mike told you this?”

“No,” Ethan says. “He doesn’t have to. It’s like in that movie. The one with the old Sub with dementia.”

Jacob chuckles. “You know I don’t go to the cinema.”

“The Notebook,” Ethan exclaims. “In the Notebook, when Ryan Gosling comes back from war and finds that Rachel McAdams is about to be collared by another Dom. First, he tries to do the respectful, you’ve made your own choice, you have a new life thing, but it’s bullshit and everyone knows it.”

Jacob smiles while watching Ethan’s lips as he speaks - something that never fails to irritate, endear and arouse him. He fights the urge to shift and fidget.

“And then one day, he’s had it, so he sweeps in, tells her that she belongs to him, and carries her off in the rain. It’s really romantic. You should watch it.”

“Don’t you think that makes Mike a bit manipulative? If he wants to be rid of Harvey, he should let the poor man move on.”

Ethan shrugs. “I don’t think Mike knows what he’s doing, but he certainly doesn’t want to get rid of Harvey.” He plays idly with the lapel of Jacob’s jacket. “Actually, I think it’s kind of romantic that Harvey’s sticking by him. Everyone ditched me when I went through that stage.”

“Oh? When was this?”

“Eighteen? Nineteen? Every time something good would come along, something that made me happy, I’d panic. I’d think I wasn’t good enough to feel so happy so I’d put an ocean of distance between me and the good thing. Just in case, you know?”

Jacob frowns. “Well, I wouldn’t have left you. I’d have made you believe you were as good as you are.”

Ethan smiles and slides down next to his Dom, resting his head on his chest. “Of all people, you might have been able to. But I’m still glad I met you at twenty-six.”

“So am I. You’re perfect.”

He smiles and hums. “You only say that because you didn’t see my ass at eighteen.” Jacob leans back and laughs heartily. 

 

The Barista winks at Donna as he hands her a croissant wrapped in a brown paper square. Rachel scowls at him and Donna snorts.

“Down girl.”

“He winked at you! Right in front of me!”

Donna leads her to an empty table with a gentle hand on the back. It takes a firm push to get her to sit and stop staring daggers at the attractive Sub. “You’re wearing my collar now, for god’s sake.” Donna grins while Rachel fingers the leather idly, still keeping one eye firmly on the barista. “We have to be back at the office in fifteen. Now, tell me how it went with Mike last night.” She sits forward in her chair, eyes alert and curious.

“He’s about to give Harvey his list of suggestions and he’s freaking out.”

“Did he tell you what he wrote?”

Rachel shakes her head. “Not really, but I don’t think he has anything to worry about.”

“Why do you say that?”

“What Harvey’s expecting is way worse than anything _Mike_ would propose.”

Donna sits back and crosses her legs. “Perhaps. But then, I don’t think Harvey is half as prepared for this as he thinks he is.” She takes a bite of her croissant, chews and wipes her mouth with the little white napkins on the table. A thought occurs to her and her eyes widen. “Oh my god, were you watching him at the bar last weekend?”

Rachel smiles around her latte and leans forward conspiratorially. “I thought he was going to shank someone.”

Donna snorts. “I know! He growled at me for fixing Mike’s shirt collar.”

They laugh and then sit quietly eating and sipping.

“I think they’re both insane,” Rachel says.

“They’re going to be miserable,” Donna agrees. “Three years. There’s no way.”

Rachel shakes her head. “Mike leaves in a week. Something will give before he gets on that plane. I know it.”

 

“I can’t believe I did this,” Jenny says with a groan. She’s sitting slumped forward in the car with her forehead against the steering wheel.

“Forget about it, will you?” Trevor says as he takes a swig of Corona he’d just bought at a 7/11. “We hate that Harvey guy.”

Jenny sits up, shaking her head. “No. No, he’s really _really_ good for Mike.”

“You can’t know that.”

Jenny looks over and, seeing he’s already popped the cap on his ‘for when we get home’ beer, she glares at him. “You’re going to get us arrested. You can’t drink that in here.” 

Trevor shrugs. “I’m not driving. It’s chill.”

She snatches the bottle and gets out to throw it in the dumpster behind the gas pumps. When she plops back down she points at him. “It’s called an open container law. And…do what I say.”

He crosses his arms over his chest and slumps down in his seat.

“Harvey’s good for him,” Jenny continues, “I just… I guess I thought Mike could do better, you know?”

“He can.”

“Maybe, but that could be true for all of us.” Trevor’s eyebrows knit and he frowns, offended. “I mean, what if he’s where he’s supposed to be now?”

“Jenny, the guy’s leaving a collar on him for fuck’s sake. He’s clearly not going anywhere.”

“See! That’s exactly what I mean! They don’t want to be separated. Mike is forcing this and it’s all my fault.”

Trevor wipes a hand down his face. “You’re being way too hard on yourself. You made a suggestion. He made the final decision. You can’t blame yourself for that.” 

Jenny humphs and they both stare out into the parking lot, thinking.

“Can we get some Thai on the way home?” Trevor asks.

“No! God. You’re not even listening to me, are you?”

“Yes! You’re freaking out because you told Mike he’d be wasting his talent if he didn’t go to law school. Which is true, so I don’t see why you’re so upset that he’s going through with it. The guy’s a genius, he should get a degree.”

“I told him that I thought Harvey would hold him back.”

“No, you didn’t. I was there, remember? We had him on speakerphone from rehab when you told him that he should seriously consider how Harvey would effect his ability to grow. Which was great advice. You didn’t tell him what to do. You didn’t tell him anything. Besides, he said himself that he’d been getting similar advice from his councilors. You have to admit that Mike has been a little obsessed. It’s weird.”

“It’s not. It’s romantic. He fell in love.”

“Do you know what he told me?”

Jenny shakes her head.

“He said that one time, when Harvey was having a hard time at work, he offered to get belt whipped. Like, hard. And he said it like he was proud of it. Like he liked it.”

Jenny’s jaw tightens but she doesn’t relent. “Maybe he did. You don’t know the details. Besides, he’s done worse shit for you in the past.”

Trevor looks taken aback, but doesn’t argue. “That’s my point. He’s always sacrificing himself for others. It’s time he did something for himself for a change.”

“I guess.”

“He leaves in a week. There’s nothing you can do now. He’s made his decision, so let it go.”

With an exhausted sigh, Jenny nods, turns the keys in the ignition, and pulls away.

 

Mike gasps, his fingers clutching at the bedspread as Harvey thrusts into him again and again. Steady, predictable. Boring. His eyes are clutched tight and his teeth bite at his lower lip. There’s a burning sensation across his lower back and ass and a throbbing where nipple clamps have only recently been removed. He tries to focus, but on what he isn’t sure.

“Harvey,” Mike groans, the thoughts and feelings all jumbled up inside his head. He wants to stop, he doesn’t want to stop, he never wants to stop. They only have five more days together, and the familiarity of Harvey’s touch creates a desperation Mike can’t seem to quench. Yet nothing Harvey does, nothing Mike gives up, none of the toys, the whips, the plugs, the clamps, none of it seems to work in bringing them satisfaction. Mike hasn’t found Subspace in months and the pressure is weighing on them both. Harvey thinks it’s his own fault. Mike _knows_ it’s not.

If he had an answer, a way to bring back that easy familiarity and blissful pleasure they used to find in each other - Mike would sacrifice anything for that. His lover seems to be slipping away from him and he fears he may be powerless to stop it.

Harvey stalls, grabs Mike around the chest and pulls him up so they’re on their knees, Harvey thrusting up into him, his effort to come increasingly evident.

Is he disenchanted? Is it Harvey’s imperfections that are distracting him, or his own? He can’t tell. Mike wasn’t going to stay that starry-eyed virgin forever. That blissful euphoria he’d found in the early days of submission wasn’t going to last, was it? Should it have? Is Harvey doing something wrong, or is Mike? The confusion rattling around makes his head hurt, distracting him from the moment. Shouldn’t he be doing something to help Harvey along? He can’t think of anything at the moment…

What if, Mike thinks for the thousandth time, he hadn’t applied to Berkeley? What if he hadn’t been accepted? What if Harvey hadn’t stayed with him and offered him his collar again? Would that have changed things? Are they like this because of Mike? Did he ruin everything? An all too familiar pang of guilt and anguish grips him. He gasps and desperately sucks in air. Harvey misreads the reactions and thinks he’s close so he picks up speed and bites at Mike’s shoulder until he’s coming with dull perfunctory grunts.

Mike pulls at his dick a couple times while Harvey is coming down from his orgasm. He follows quickly, but it’s about as unsatisfying as Harvey’s seemed to be.

When they’ve caught their breath, Harvey lays down beside him. They’re exhausted from trying so hard to make this work. Mike rolls into his chest and holds on tight. If nothing else, his Dom’s embrace is still just as pleasurable as the first time.

“I’m sorry,” Mike croaks, not sure what he’s apologizing for. He’d taken the light whipping well, and never once complained about the clamps. They’ve been trying small increases in pain to put Mike in more satisfying levels of subspace, but it hasn’t been working.

“Don’t be,” Harvey says. “I… I think we’re both stressed this week, it’s natural that things would be off.”

Things have been off for most of the year, Mike thinks, but he doesn’t say anything. Instead he ponders what options he has left. The most obvious is terrifying in it’s simplicity. _Don’t go_ , one voice says. _Take him with you_ , says another.

Mike shifts, feeling suddenly feverish.

“What’s wrong sweetheart?”

“I feel a little sick.” He wiggles out of Harvey’s grip and wanders into the bathroom where he leans against the sink, sucking in air. Harvey, used to this now, is unfazed. He follows him in and turns the shower on to a cool room-temperature, then leads them both in where he stands, holding Mike against his chest.

“Better?”

Mike nods.

 _Don’t go. Take him with you_. 

The nagging sense that this would fix everything is like a siren’s song, but what if he’s wrong? What if he’s dead wrong and he finds they’re just as bad off in a year, two years, three years, as they are now? Harvey wouldn’t leave, he’d stick around, miserable and unfulfilled, letting Mike feed off him until there’s nothing left. Somewhere along the way things went south. He’s damaged goods and he has the sick feeling he’ll be like a virus to the man he loves if he doesn’t leave. There’s still hope, a tiny glimmer of hope, that time away might mend things. Maybe a separation can actually be what cures them. It’s a long shot, but it’s possible. Maybe with time Mike will learn to be better for Harvey and can fix his mistake. Maybe the answer is out there somewhere. Maybe it’s not. Maybe… maybe… maybe…

With a sniffle he clutches Harvey tighter and lets the tears fall silently.

“We’re okay,” Harvey reassures confidently.

“N-n-no,” Mike says, shaking his head.

“We are. We’ll get through this.”

 

Harvey is toweling off his hair as he wanders into the living room where Mike is sitting cross-legged on the couch with a folded piece of paper clutched in his fingers.

He stands just there and smiles. “You’re way too nervous, Mike. This is merely to help me finalize the contract. I want it signed tomorrow so you can get used to being in a collar again.”

Mike nods. They’d gone to bed together before doing this in the hopes that it might calm them down, bring them closer, make the experience more an act of love than business. That plan, of course, didn’t go so well.

He holds out his hand but Mike won’t give it up.

“I can read it in the study if you’d like, but I think you should be here to stand by your requests.”

Mike glances up, nods, and hands him the paper.

Somehow, call it denial, call it self-preservation, Harvey has been doing remarkably well considering that Mike is leaving in under a week. He’s come to terms with what Mike wants and plans to get him ready and sent off without the emotional break-down he’d been anticipating. There’s nothing he can do now except treat the situation with confidence. Someone has to be calm because Mike is coming completely unglued with every passing day. 

Sitting back in his chair, leg propped up, he opens the sheet.

SEPARATION CONTRACT SUGGESTIONS

1\. I’d like the freedom to choose my own partners.

2\. I don’t want either of us to scene with the same person more than twice.

3\. I want Subs you scene with to know about me.

4\. I don’t want either of us to kiss other people.

5\. I don’t want anyone but you inside me.

The last two points surprise him, but the sentiment makes him smile. He glances up at Mike who smiles back nervously.

“What?” he asks.

“Why were you nervous about this?”

“I don’t know.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“I guess I thought you might not like all of the things I suggested.”

“Not at all, but there is one point I cannot agree to.” Mike sinks a couple inches. “But these last two… it makes me very happy that you feel this way.”

“I do.”

“Why did you only include yourself in the last suggestion?”

Mike’s eye widen and he gapes wordlessly. “You… you mean… would you do that? Would you be _able_ to do that?”

“I can achieve a great deal from a scene that does not end in penetration. If you can do it, I certainly can.”

“Thank you,” he whispers, looking suddenly starry eyed.

Harvey nods. “This first point, though. I can’t agree to this.”

Mike leans over as if to verify what he’d written. “But… what do you mean? What else would I do?”

Harvey sets the paper down and crosses his legs. “I was going to wait until tomorrow after I did your revisions, but we might as well talk about this now.”

Mike looks a little spooked, but he’s paying attention.

“If I can’t be there to give you what you need,” Harvey begins, resisting the urge to say what’s really going on - _if you won’t let me be there_ \- “then I want a proxy.”

“A proxy?”

“Give me a second,” Harvey says. He goes to the study and takes out a black information packet from his desk drawer, then brings it back to Mike.

Mike strokes one hand over the embossed cover and then looks up at him. “The Bay Club,” he reads. “What is this?”

“It’s a very exclusive and rather expensive membership-only club. I’d like you to restrict your scenes to this space. No seeking out partners, no wondering if they’ll take good care of you or if it’s safe to go home with them. Those uncertainties are too risky and I won’t allow it.”

Mike stares down at the folder for a long time. “Is this negotiable?”

“Yes. But not if you’d like to wear my collar.”

Mike huffs and runs a hand through his hair. “I wanted to,” he begins. “I was hoping to gain some experience -”

“Mike, be honest with me, are you planning to return to this relationship at the end of three years.”

Mike looks up sharply. “Yes! Why would you ask me that, we’ve been over this, like, a million times. Of course I want to come back to you.” He looks like he might cry.

“Then what experience are you expecting to get by learning to troll for short-term partners.”

He wraps a hand around the back of his neck. “I don’t know. I guess that doesn’t make sense. I just thought… never mind.”

“This arrangement assures me of your safety and well-being.”

“How?”

“Excellent management, state-of-the-art security measures and background checks that would make the CIA jealous.”

“That sounds expensive.”

“It is.”

“So,” Mike says, “your paying a bunch of Doms you’ve never met to top me? Is that what this is?”

“I’m paying for the service the club provides. Doms also pay handsomely for their own membership to these establishments.”

“Okay. And would you, I don’t know, be debriefed or something?”

“That’s an option, but I’d rather not. At least, not regularly. It’s too emotionally complicated. A file will be kept on you and the staff will only contact me should something happen that I need to be aware of.”

“Like what?”

“Any number of things. I’m your Dom, even if I’m here and you’re there. They’ll know to treat me with the respect that title earns me. Anything to do with you that I need to know, I’ll know.”

“Sorry, this is all so surreal.”

“Clubs of this nature are hardly rare.”

“I know that, but I always thought they were for ridiculously rich people with kinks too weird to have fulfilled with normal partners.”

“You’re thinking of fetish clubs.”

“Oh.”

“This is for Doms and Subs looking for a safe environment to play. A place to have their needs met without having to search for partners, negotiate, schedule. Your preferences are kept on file and the house pairs you with partners based on your needs. Which, come to think of it, might make your second request a bit tricky. They host an impressive number of patrons but they can’t be expected to limit your encounters so strictly and still make a good match. But if it’s important to you, I’ll request it.”

Mike shrugs. “I was just trying to avoid,” he looks away shyly. “Attachment.”

“Such restrictions are a good idea, but if that’s your only concern, I think you have to remember that attachment is a risk in any intimate and emotional situation. The key is to know when to move on.”

He nods. “Okay. Then let’s scratch the first two suggestions.”

Harvey nods. “Fine. And I agree readily to the remaining three. We both must make our partners aware of the other. In your case the club will do that for you. We also agree not to kiss or engage in penetrative sex with other partners. Does that include all penetration?” Harvey asks clinically.

Mike’s eyebrows raise. “What, like dildos and fingers and stuff?”

Harvey smirks. “Yes. And oral sex.”

“I don’t know. I just… I was afraid to let anyone inside me for a long time and you were the first person I trusted. I don’t want anyone else to have that part of me.”

Harvey leans over and puts a hand on Mike’s knee. Squeezes. “I don’t want anyone else to have that part of you either. You use your own judgment when it comes to everything else.”

Mike nods and looks back at the pamphlet.

“Take your time,” Harvey says. 

Mike flips it open and thumbs through each page, his eyebrows furrowed. He reads slowly their mission statement, testimonials and general rules. When he gets to the glossy photos of the club his eyebrows raise. “Harvey, this looks really nice, I don’t know about this.”

“What does nice have to do with anything?”

“What if - what if I’m not _good_ enough. I’ll be just a college student, I’ll hardly be able to afford clothes nice enough to walk into this place. And then once I get there,” he gulps, “I wouldn’t know how to behave.”

Harvey gets a sinking feeling. It’s not that he didn’t know this was a problem, he did. He regrets bitterly that he never took the time to teach Mike why this thinking is so completely _wrong_. 

“I need you to not think about that and trust that this is the right place for you. You’ll be well taken care of.”

Mike nods slowly. “Yeah, okay.”

“We’re in agreement?”

“Yes, sir.”

 

Mike signs the contract the next evening without preamble. He looks everything over, all the things they’d discussed time and again, nods to himself and signs. He hands the pen to Harvey who scribbles his name quickly - just in case he over-thinks this and comes to his senses.

They each step back and stare down at it. Three pieces of paper stapled to a manila folder. Official. Simple. Necessary. Really _really_ fucking hated.

With a sigh Harvey opens up the desk drawer and pulls out the black box he’d presented to his Sub for the first time over two years ago. Mike’s breath speeds up as he looks at it. However, what he’s expecting to be inside, and what he’s soon to find, are two very different things.

Gently, Harvey opens the lid to reveal the carefully placed collar within, set delicately on black velvet. 

Mike looks up at him, wide eyed. “What is that?”

Inside is a simple brown collar. The leather is high quality and soft but the workmanship is nothing special. There’s nothing extravagant, flashy or unique. It has a standard buckle in the back that adjusts for any Sub - not the specially tailored clip buckle in platinum he’d crafted for Mike’s first collar - and a metal ring at the front.

“It’s a training collar.”

Mike gulps, his jaw trembling.

“I’ve thought a lot about this. Collaring you for these three years goes against my instincts, judgment and common sense.”

Mike bites his lip and nods. “I know,” he croaks.

“But I’ve fallen quite… hopelessly in love with you, and it’s made me foolhardy. You’ve told me what you need, and although I think you’re wrong, I’m going to let you test your limits on this. This collar is made for Subs in training, or those who have not yet proven themselves ready for a permanent collaring.”

“But I,” he protests, “but I thought… where’s the other one? Where’s _my_ collar?” He holds his arms tight around himself and looks around the room, searching. There’s a subtle desperation rising up in him that, after years together, Harvey can now sense long before it overtakes his fragile Sub.

Harvey steps forward and places a hand on Mike’s arm, steadying him.

“It’s not gone, Mike. It’ll be waiting for you.”

“Waiting?”

“When you’re ready to come back to me, it’ll be my pleasure to return it to you. Until then, this is what I can offer. It’s a symbol of trust and confidence in your ability to be,” he hesitates over the next words, but decides Mike needs to hear them. “Completely deserving of me.”

Mike jerks his head up, his expression tightening up into a mask of hurt, frustration and anger. He pushes away. “How could you say that! Fuck that, I’ve given everything to you!”

“No you haven’t,” Harvey snaps back. He’s getting angry and when he’s angry his words become less bridled. “If you’d given everything to me you’d be wearing my collar and you’d be taken care of. I can make anything imaginable happen for you. You’d be _mine_. I’d go to the ends of the earth to give you what you need, but you didn’t want that. You wanted to do it on your own. You wanted _independence_.”

They’re both breathing heavily and Mike’s hands are balled up into fists. 

“This is what I’m offering,” he says, pointing down at the collar. “Prove you deserve better and that’s what you’ll get.”

Hatred reflecting in his eyes, Mike turns and flees the room. Harvey doesn’t follow. 

_Four days_ , he thinks. Mike had better start learning to deal with his emotions alone.

The door to Mike’s old room slams and Harvey rolls his eyes. He hasn’t tried that one in months. Fine, he can stay there. Harvey shuts the lid on the collar and puts the contract in his file drawer.

He doesn’t regret this decision. Not. One. Bit. 

Besides, Mike needs this more than what he thinks he wants. 

 

Harvey is reading a legal journal in the living room and relaxing with a small glass of Scotch when Mike finally emerges. He’s has his grandmother’s quilt wrapped around him, which means he would have had to go through the packing boxes to dig it out. He walks slowly over to Harvey. His eyes are lowered, but the pink tint to his cheeks and swollen nose hardly disguise his emotional state. With a sniffle he kneels down next to Harvey and places his head on his knee. Harvey hesitates before lowering his palm to Mike’s hair.

“Did that help?”

“No,” he croaks.

“I could have told you that.”

“Are you trying to punish me?”

Harvey sets aside his journal. “No. But I will be punishing you for breaking a rule and hiding from me.”

Mike’s shoulders tense as if preparing to fight, and then relax again. “What if I refuse the _training_ collar?”

“Then I’d make sure you get to Berkeley safely before saying goodbye.”

“Is that what you really want?” Mike asks, looking up, his eyes on fire with rage. “Are you just trying to get rid of me?”

“No,” Harvey assures calmly, taking his hand off Mike. “I want to be everything I’ve promised you without losing myself in the process. You’re selfish, manipulative and spoiled, but I said I’d never leave you. No matter what you do, I promised I wouldn’t leave. It might not be the collar you want, but it’s still mine and it’s valuable. What did I tell you when I collared you the first time? Use that memory of yours and tell me.”

Mike seems to come to the memory slowly, and his face droops. “You said you’d never collar a Sub you weren’t prepared to keep.”

“That collar represents the same promise. If you don’t want it, fine. I can’t force you.”

Mike lowers his eyes, submission washing over him like an unwanted necessity. _God, he has no idea what he needs,_ Harvey thinks.

“I want the collar.”

Harvey stares down at him, making him wait a long time for his response.

“Good. Go in the study and wait for me.” Mike stands. “And I want you naked.”

He hesitates but keeps walking.

When Harvey finally joins him Mike is nude and kneeling by the desk chair. His clothes are folded in a neat pile on top of his grandmother’s quilt.

Harvey takes the collar out of the box and sits down. The buckle is still stiff, but the leather moves easily. Mike leans forward and lowers his head as Harvey fastens it in the back. He smooths Mike’s growing hair down and asks him to sit up. It’s plain but not unbecoming. The soft brown leather flatters his blonde hair and warm complexion. The connotations of such a collar, however, make him look like an unruly teenager.

“I love you very much,” Harvey says softly with both hands on Mike’s shoulders.

“I love you too.”

“This is temporary. When you’ve gone and learned what you need to learn, come back to me, submit entirely to my will, and I’ll make you truly content, Mike.”

He absorbs this slowly, his mind working fast and his body fighting against chills.

“How can you be sure?”

“When you stop fighting me and let me do my job, you’ll see for yourself.”

Mike nods, but he doesn’t seem to believe it. “You blame me for… how we are now, don’t you? You resent me.”

“I blame myself for letting you get to a point where you’d think being alone will solve your problems. It won’t, but I think you need to learn that for yourself. Now get up and lean over the desk, you’ll have eight strikes of the paddle for hiding from me.”

Harvey goes into the bedroom and takes out his longest thinnest paddle. Punishing Mike is probably a waste of time. He’ll grit his teeth and bare it and Harvey will take no pleasure in trying to calibrate a Sub who’s leaving him, but that doesn’t matter. He wants to be the same Dom he’s always been, right up to the very last day. 

And there’s always the chance, the very minute chance, that something he does will be Mike’s breakthrough. It hasn’t happened yet, but he keeps trying.

Back in the office he lays one palm against Mike’s back and orders him to count. The first strike makes a dull cracking sound and Mike jumps. By the fifth his skin is blossoming from pink to red and he’s twisting right and left as if contemplating making an escape from under Harvey’s hand. By the eighth he’s calmed and is panting with exertion. Harvey pets him soothingly, trying harder than ever not to sob at the thought of losing the feel of this skin under his hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _I intended to write a lengthy response to the overwhelming criticism and concerns that I received after chapter 20, but have decided to go ahead and let my final chapters speak for themselves. While I most certainly welcome honesty and constructive feedback, please remember to approach my work, and that of other authors with respect. I write for myself and share it with the hope that you find entertainment and enjoyment from it. But ultimately, I have to stay true to my own story and vision. I have to admit that the feedback from chapter 20 became tough to read, even though the large majority of you were very gentle._
> 
> _If after reading the above you have constructive feedback or concerns, please wait until you have read part 2 of chapter 21 before commenting. I will be glad to respond at that time. If you just want to send me some love - please do!!!_
> 
> _I swore I'd never do this, but, at the moment I'm not above getting on my knees and begging for a little encouragement. I'm still excited about moving forward with the series, but I'd love to hear from supportive readers! Thank you :)_


	22. Chapter 21 (Part 2)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's chapter 21 (Part 2) as promised! **Please take particular note of the following:**
> 
> _1\. Although this is the final chapter of "Malpractice", there will be an epilogue that acts as an introduction and "sneak peak" into the events of the third and final story of the "Subspace Verse". Keep an eye out for that next week._
> 
> _2\. Which means that... YES! there will be one more chaptered story (and possibly a one-shot the proceeds it). I've said it once but I'll say it again, just in case you missed the memo - Harvey and Mike's journey isn't over yet! I'm in the process of working on the rest of the series and will keep you updated at my tumblr (poppypickford)._
> 
> _3\. To all who left comments on Part 1... I am overwhelmed. Honestly. I can't begin to describe how comforting and inspiring it is to receive such warm encouragement. Now, I promise not to do anymore begging. I'll leave that to Mike ;) Although, I haven't had time today to sit down and reply, but I will most certainly get back to each and every one of you at my earliest opportunity. Thank you again!_

**Chapter 21 (Part 2)**

Mike peeks down the hall to watch Harvey as he instructs the caterers where to lay out the food. The party begins in one hour and Mike’s flight leaves in seventeen. Turning back to the bedroom, Mike looks mournfully at the half-empty closet and drawers. One nightstand is bare. One pillow is gone. He wipes at his eyes to ward off tears and wanders back into the bathroom where he stands, staring at himself in the mirror. 

“You look lovely,” Harvey says, coming up behind him. He smiles and leans down to kiss Mike behind the ear. 

Mike leans into the touch and then turns in his arms to press himself flush against his Dom’s body. “Tell me again when you’ll visit.”

“Two months. Three weeks. Two Days,” Harvey says soothingly.

Mike breaths in and out, trying to feel calmed by this because right now, two months, three weeks and two days seems like a lifetime.

Harvey pulls him away and looks down at him. “Are you feeling anxious about wearing your collar in front of your friends?”

Mike sighs and looks away. “I’m not ashamed of it,” he says with determination.

Harvey nods. “Good. You shouldn’t be.”

“I’m just not sure how to talk about it.”

“No one will be tactless enough to question it, Mike. But if they do, you tell them the truth. Understood?”

“Yes. It’s just… awkward.”

Harvey raises one eyebrow. “And you don’t think inviting my friends, my boss and even my _ex_ , to celebrate your leaving me isn’t?”

Mike winces and looks away. “I apologize,” Harvey says with a huff, “I’m not ashamed either, I stand by my decision. Anyone who disagrees can go fuck themselves.”

Mike smiles thinly. “Do you think people talk about us?”

“Undoubtedly, but don’t think about it. Just enjoy yourself. You won’t see many of your friends for a long time so have fun. You look great.”

With a quick kiss, Harvey sends him to take the champagne out of the fridge.

 

 

Having Scottie in his apartment again is unnerving to say the least, but it would have been unacceptable not to invite Darby and his family to the party, considering he’s been in New York all summer. Harvey is chatting idly with one of Mike’s new friends from the law library where he’d been working part-time. The job paid nothing, but it kept him busy and gave him extra time to refresh his legal reading - not that he needs it. 

The young Sub, fresh out of college, is pretty but talks too much and laughs too loudly. Over his shoulder Harvey watches Scottie bring Darby a plate of food before settling down at his feet next to a much older Sub - Marcus, if he remembers correctly. The man is nearly as old as Darby and rather plain. His hair is starting to look dull and the lines in his face are deepening, but when he smiles… when he smiles Harvey understands. 

Scottie catches his eye and frowns. She fidgets and leans in toward her Dom. Her behavior tonight has been nothing like what he expected. He had visions of her flouncing around the apartment like she owned the place. He even anticipated the possibility of a tussle between her and Mike, but they’ve been getting along great. Mike even hugged her when she arrived. God. He knew they’d come to some sort of truce in Italy, but he didn’t know they were practically _friends_.

“Anyway, Mike is so brave, isn’t he?” the Sub says with a slight lisp. 

“Sorry?”

“I said he’s brave for going all the way to California alone. I mean, I couldn’t do it.”

“Yes,” Harvey says dismissively.

“You know,” the Sub says with a compassionate hand to his heart, “I think you’re such a hero for letting him follow his dream, but I can’t imagine what you must be going through. You must already be feeling so,” he moves his hand from his own chest to Harvey’s arm, “lonely.”

Harvey steps away and sets down his plate of cheese. “Please excuse me.”

Sweeping through the apartment, Harvey suddenly realizes that he hasn’t seen Mike in awhile.

He touches Rachel’s shoulder as he passes. ”Have you seen Mike?”

She squints and looks around the room. “I think he went into the kitchen to get ice.”

Harvey nods and goes to look through the open doorway. Sure enough, Mike and Jenny are in there. Mike is filling the ice bucket slowly while speaking quietly and with a serious set to his lips.

Halfway down the hall a hand comes up and he’s pulled into a hug. “Donna,” he says with a grateful sigh. “I’m sorry, did I forget to say hello?”

“Yes, actually,” she says. “But I just thought you needed a hug.” She lifts up a glass of champagne. “And one of these.”

He rolls his eyes. “Thank you.”

“How is Mike holding up?” 

He shrugs. “Mike’s a wreck, but he’s trying to make me think he’s got it together. Honestly Donna, at this point I just want it to be tomorrow. Is that terrible?”

“No, it’s honest. You’ve been dreading this day for a year. I don’t know how you’ve managed to stay in one piece.”

“Barely.”

“Well,” she looks out with him at the crowd. “I know this isn’t what you want to hear, but it needs to be said. “You deserve better than this.” She looks at him sternly and then glares in the direction of Mike. “But I understand why you’re doing it and I think it makes you a hero.”

“Not a hero. I just,” he shakes his head. “Eventually he’s going to fall, Donna. And I need to be here to catch him. The alternative is… unacceptable.”

“I know. Every Dom in this room understands, so don’t think for a second that you’re being judged. We’ll stand behind you.” With one final hug she pecks him on the cheek and disappears back into the crowd.

Back in the living room Harvey finds Darby sitting alone. He’d been surrounded by his Subs all evening and the absence is notable. Harvey smiles and takes a seat next to his new boss - a man who is now closer to friend than enemy. “What happened to your companions?”

Darby smiles. “Restroom.”

“Together?” he laughs.

“Yes. They do everything together.” He smiles mischievously, but doesn’t comment on the entendre.

“Thank you for coming,” Harvey says sincerely. “I know you must disapprove of this.”

“What makes you say that?”

“Well, don’t you?”

“Not at all,” he says with a shake of the head. “I think Michael is a foolish Sub, but your actions have been quite clever.”

Harvey turns in his seat, suddenly riveted. Darby is a professional trainer so the praise is intriguing. 

Darby laughs at Harvey’s questioning look and nods. “Yes, you heard me correctly.”

“What makes you say that?”

Darby sits up and turns in toward Harvey. He leans forward a little and lowers his voice as if sharing a secret, but the grin on his face reveals his delight in coaching. “How about an analogy. Let’s say you’re training a Sub to kneel for an hour without fidgeting, what would you do if they suddenly stood up and refused to kneel for another second? Do you tie them into position and force them? Or do you let them go?”

“You let them go,” Harvey says without hesitation.

He nods. “Of course you do. You can’t force a Sub to do something once they’ve set their mind against it. If they won’t submit, all the rope in the world won’t make them.” He raises his eyebrows. “And then what? What next?”

Harvey thinks. “I would go to them and find out what made them give up. I’d try to discuss other ways to approach the task. If they’d been disrespectful I might-”

Darby shakes his head. “No. No, you let them sulk. Kneeling can’t hurt them, they just don’t want to put in the effort.” He points to Mike who is trying not to look overwhelmed as three people surround him at the dining room table to give their congratulations. “Submission isn’t hurting him and I’d bet my fortune that you aren’t either. He just doesn’t want to put in the effort anymore. Being a good Sub takes work. It takes sacrifice and dedication. You can talk to him all you want without ever curing disinterest. He has to realize what he’s missing and decide, quite on his own, to put all of himself back into it. We all deal with this behavior at one time or another. How many Subs have you heard wish they could get a day off?”

“A day off from what?”

“From being themselves. Submissives.”

Harvey nods. “Countless. And I give it to them.”

“Yes!” Darby says. “You let them do exactly what they want, on their schedule. You let them take care of everything themselves without lifting a finger to help, and how long does that last?”

“A day. Sometimes less.”

“Precisely. Harvey. I’m sorry to tell you this, but what you have there is a Sub who is determined to take a bit more than a day off from being himself. Michael is willful and headstrong, but he still needs you. He needs you keenly. There is such a thing as a Sub who doesn’t need us for more than an occasional pheromone exchange. I’ve tried and failed to train them. They do better on their own. But that boy,” he points to Mike. “Not even close. He’s like Scottie. She doesn’t need me to help her be brilliant or successful. But she does need me to keep her happy.”

Harvey sits back, suddenly seeing everything from a new perspective. “Do you really think that’s it?”

“It’s merely one Dom’s opinion. If there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that nothing is ever black and white. I just have a gift for seeing shades of gray.”

Across the apartment Harvey spots Scottie and Marcus returning hand in hand. Scottie observes them and then whispers something to the other Sub. With a nod he leads her to the dining room and full service bar.

“He’s probably starting to panic, isn’t he?” Darby asks.

Harvey nods.

“Is he eating well?”

“No.”

“Can he achieve subspace?”

Harvey hesitates, unsure if he wants to give up such personal information, but, finally deciding he has nothing to lose, he shakes his head.

Darby throws up his hands. “Self-sabotage. Classic. The less he tries, the more hopeless it seems to be. The more hopeless it seems to be, the less he tries.” Darby leans in. “He thinks he’s lost the ability to be what you need.”

Harvey sits back, stunned. “You can’t know that. You hardly know him.”

“Educated hypothesis. There are always extenuating circumstances and things buried beneath the surface. I’m simply giving you my honest evaluation and reassurance that you are doing precisely what I would do.”

“Are you saying I couldn’t have done something different? I can’t accept that.”

“Oh dear, no! Of course there’s something you could have done. You’re hardly blameless, Harvey. I’m sorry to tell you that. Yes, every time our Subs go astray we must look in the mirror to find the problem. It’s not fair is it?”

“Fair doesn’t matter to me. Getting Mike home again is all I care about.”

Darby hums. “And he hasn’t even left yet.”

“One day is a day too long.”

“Well then,” the other Dom says, reaching into his pocket. “Take this.” He hands Harvey a small black card with a phone number he’s never seen before. It’s certainly not his business line. “When you’re ready to do something. Call me.”

“What do you mean?” Harvey asks, turning the card back and forth in his hand but finding no clue. “What is this?”

“You know what it is. Hopefully you won’t be too proud to use it. There are always things to learn, even for a skilled Dom like yourself.” He grins and pats Harvey on the back. “Now, you might want to check on your boy. He disappeared a while back and seems out of sorts.”

Harvey looks up from the card, still unsure of what he should think of this bizarre offer, and shakes his head. “Sorry?”

“Michael is alone in your bedroom. Perhaps you’d like to check on him?”

 

 

The minor pressure headache that had been blossoming all day is becoming a full-blown migraine by the time the party starts. Mike smiles and nods at everyone. He hugs friends, shakes the hands of Doms, and pretends not to notice the discreet glances at his collar and pitying looks. 

After awhile, when he doesn’t think he can maintain his fake smile for one more minute, Jenny comes to his rescue. “I noticed the ice bucket is empty,” she says, grabbing his arms and guiding him toward the kitchen. “Help me, will you?”

Mike nods dumbly and follows her. They set the bucket down between them and Mike goes to the freezer where countless bags of ice are stacked in the pull out drawer.

“I’ve known you for a long time, Mike, and I can tell when you’re coming unglued.”

“No, I’m great,” he lies.

“I don’t believe it for a second.”

He shakes his head adamantly. “Jenny, I don’t want to do this.” His hands are starting to freeze as he dips them over and over into the bag of ice. “And I don’t appreciate the tone, it feels like you’re trying to top me.”

Jenny deflates. She lets her shoulders drop and softens her face. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine. Was there anything else you wanted to talk to me about?”

“Well, I wanted to say that I’ll miss you.”

He smiles.

“And that I need to, uhm, apologize for something.” She grimaces and clicks her nails on the counter.

“Okay. What is it?”

“I guess I’m feeling guilty.”

“And?”

“And I need to tell you that, despite everything I’ve said in the past. I just want you to know that I think Harvey is good for you. I was wrong to suggest otherwise.”

Mike frowns. “I don’t remember you ever saying he wasn’t.”

“Wow, those drugs must have really screwed with your memory.”

He shrugs. “Yeah, a little. But just while I was detoxing.”

“Well,” she says, “I might have suggested that you’d do better at university without Harvey there, and while that might still be true, I feel like I did you a disservice.”

Mike chews on his lip while tying the blue ice bag closed. “I don’t really remember, but you weren’t the only one to suggest it. Besides, I made this decision entirely on my own. It’ll be my own fault if I’m dead wrong.”

She nods and watches him wipe idly at the granite countertop with a dishcloth. “And? Any regrets?”

Mike glances up at her and then down again. He takes a deep breath and throws the towel into the sink. “Do you really need to ask? Of course I’m having fucking regrets.” He pushes the ice bucket at her, touches her arm in what he hopes says _this isn’t about you_ , and hurries out. 

Back amongst the guests Mike is feeling increasingly panicked. _Why are there so many people here? Why are they doing this? Where’s Harvey?_ Looking around he finally finds his Dom sitting with Darby of all people looking engrossed in conversation. They’re probably talking business. And on Mike’s last night too. Typical.

“Mike!” Someone calls through the noise. It’s Kyle from the bullpen. He’s smiling broadly and dragging a slightly older Sub with frizzy brown hair and a pair of red high-heels that she can’t quite balance in. Not attractive per-say, but sweet looking. “Did I introduce you to Katie?” Mike smiles and shakes her hand. When she smiles her teeth have a gap. Mike small talks his old office friend until the Dom’s happiness in his new relationship starts to make Mike want to punch something.

He takes a glass of champagne, downs it, and then looks around the room for somewhere to sit. Harvey is occupied and everyone else is in pairs. Even Ethan who promised to back him up if Mike gets overwhelmed is momentarily distracted with cleaning a stain on Jacob’s lapel.

Not sure where to turn, suddenly everything gets a little fuzzy and the room starts spinning. His pulse is racing and everything sounds like one long drone. Feeling sick, he dashes out of the room and into the bedroom where he shuts the door behind him.

 

 

Harvey knocks on the door as he’s opening it. “Mike?” he calls. “Are you in here?”

Inside he finds Mike on his hands and knees at the dresser, pulling folded white dress shirts out of the drawers and stacking them in a messy pile.

“Sweetheart? What are you doing?”

“Packing.”

“Packing what? All your things are in the moving trucks and on their way to your new place as we speak.”

“Your stuff,” he says.

Harvey glances up to find one of his suitcases open on the bed. He looks back into the apartment to ensure that no one has noticed their departure and then closes the door behind him. He kneels down next to Mike and puts a hand on his back. “Hey, slow down. Let’s talk about this.”

Mike shakes his head and then opens another drawer where he grabs big handfuls of socks. Deciding it might be best to keep him moving, Harvey lets him continue.

“Why are you packing me a bag?”

“You’re coming with me.”

Harvey blinks. Is this a breakthrough? Finally? He’d been waiting for something like this for a year, so why now? Hours before his plane leaves and minutes after Harvey finally started feeling at peace about his decision. Why fucking _now_?

“Okay,” he says, deciding to play along while he thinks of what to do. Mike has started going through his tie clips and cuff pins with shaky fingers. “What do you suggest I do when I get to Berkeley?”

“You stay with me,” Mike says simply.

Harvey nods. “Okay. Mike? I need you to look at me now.”

Mike resists for another minute and then deflates. He drops the box of pins and clips, causing them spill across the floor, and looks at him. The effort to meet his eye is evident.

“Why do you want me to go to Berkeley?”

“Seriously?” he whines. “I want my Dom with me. I don’t want to be alone. I don’t want someone else to touch me in some club. I don’t want this fucking collar. I want my life back!”

Harvey nods and pulls Mike into his arms. He’s starting to cry.

“I know.”

“I’m so stupid. I’m so sorry, Harvey. I’m so sorry. God. Do you forgive me?”

Harvey doesn’t answer, he just holds his boy and tries to think. There are a couple of avenues he can take this situation and he’s determined to make it the right one. There’s what he wants to say and what he should say. There’s what would make him happy, and what would be right for Mike. Suddenly he’d do anything to have Darby in here to tell him what he should say. To reassure him that what he’s about to do will make Mike stronger. Take the responsibility away. Harvey is a damn good Dom, but this is beyond even him.

Taking a deep breath and clenching his eyes to warn away the tears, Harvey strokes Mike’s head and urges him to kneel back on his heels.

“I’m very proud of you for realizing how this has affected me. And I’m very proud of you for trying to think of a solution.”

He sniffles.

“But I cannot go with you to Berkeley.”

Mike looks up, eyes wide. “What? But… but you said…”

“When you told me about your decision to apply, a decision that I had very little say in, I offered to pick up my life and move with you to California, but that option is no longer on the table.”

Mike’s eyes scrunch up and his chin wobbles. 

“I’ve spent a year setting up a New York office, I’ve hired employees, I’ve made connections.”

“But… but aren’t I more important?” he asks. 

“Yes.”

Mike exhales. 

“But I’m still not going to Berkeley with you tomorrow.”

Harvey expects a tantrum. He expects fighting and clawing and demands. Instead, Mike looks up at him with devastation, but behind that there’s trust and acceptance. The fight is still in him but it’s not clawing for dominance. It’s just reaching for what it wants and hoping for what it needs. 

“You said… you said that when I wanted to give you everything, that you’d fix it.”

Harvey strokes Mike’s arm and nods. “I did say that, you’re right. But what’s different about what I asked for and what you’re offering?”

Mike sucks in a breath, trying to calm himself while he thinks. “I… I’m being too demanding?”

“That’s one thing. You’re also not submitting, Mike. You’re trying to control me. You’ve been trying to control me for a long time and I’m done letting you. I’ve given you permission to leave and a lot of resources to make it possible. I’ll still visit. I’ll still call you. I’m not going anywhere, I’m just not following you.”

Mike gives up the fight to cry and falls into Harvey’s arms. 

“What if I didn’t go to Berkeley?” he asks. “What then?”

“You don’t want to do that. You have a great opportunity ahead of you and you need to take it.”

He cuddles in closer. “Then what do I do? I don’t understand how to fix this.”

“You can’t fix it. Not today.”

“When?”

Harvey thinks about this. All the times he’d hoped for this moment, hoped that he’d be given the chance to be here to pick Mike up when he fell and carry him to safety, to be his rock, he never thought he’d be in a position where he’d be saying _no, not now_. 

“I want you to be strong for me and get through one year on your own. You wanted the opportunity. You _insisted_ on it, so I know you can do this.”

“And then?”

“And then, if you’re truly ready to submit, I’ll be here.”

Mike pauses. “What does that mean?”

“It means that you have to be ready to give up control and let me guide you. You have to finally let me do my job, or you wait another year.” Harvey has a plan formulating in his mind. “On the 4th of July. If you’re ready, that’s your day.”

Mike is clutching at his jacket. “But you wouldn’t… you wouldn’t make me give up law school.” It’s not a question but a hesitant reassurance.

“You have to trust that I’d never do anything to hurt you, Mike. I want you to be the best version of yourself. I want you to have everything, and I believe that you are capable of the most amazing things. You’ll just have to trust me.”

 

 

Harvey tucks Mike into bed and kisses him. “Let me get rid of everyone so I can lay with you, okay?”

Mike nods, looking sleepy and slipping into subspace for the first time in months. Harvey just wishes it had been something less somber that did it.

Outside Harvey finds Rachel and Donna first and asks them to spread the word. “Mike’s not feeling well. Tell everyone we’re wrapping up early.” They nod and get busy making the rounds of the room, politely shooing guests.

Before they leave Ethan and Jacob ask that Mike be given a gift. “I have a friend,” Jacob says, “who makes wonderful handmade furniture in San Francisco. Her business card is in the envelope. Anything Mike wants, it’s his.” Harvey thanks them, hugs Ethan, and says his goodbyes.

“You’ll consider calling, won’t you?” Darby says with a stern look. Scottie and Marcus hover several feet behind him. Scottie smiles.

Harvey, remembering the card, hesitates. “I’ll seriously consider it. Things are a little out of control right now and I have… concerns. It might be nice to get a second opinion on how to proceed.”

Darby nods and pats him on the back. He turns and catches Scottie’s eye. “I almost forgot,” he says, stepping closer, “Scottie has asked my permission to speak with you, and I’ve granted it. I know you need to get back to Michael, but if you have a minute, I think it would put her at ease.”

Harvey’s lips thin. He hadn’t wanted her here to begin with, but since it was unavoidable he has been happy to find her, if nothing else, quiet and unassuming. “I don’t have anything to say to Scottie.”

“She’s earned this,” he says softly. “She’s worked very hard and long to atone for a mistake, and this is her reward. You understand how important closure is.”

He breaths deep, feeling cornered. “Yes. Fine.”

Darby nods and beckons his Sub closer. 

She comes up but seems uncomfortable standing more than three feet from Harvey. She grins awkwardly and insistently twists her hair as it lies over one shoulder. Harvey remembers this. She did it when she was feeling self-conscious… which was rare. Darby strokes her back and then returns to put an arm around Marcus. They turn away, whispering to each other.

“You wanted to talk to me.” Harvey says.

“I need to apologize.”

“No, you don’t. What I can forgive is already forgotten.”

She bites her lip. “I know we don’t have time to talk about it, and I don’t think you would want to even if we did…”

“Correct.”

“But I just want you to know that I learned so much from you and you took such good care of me. So, even if I don’t regret where I ended up, I do regret how it happened. If I could take back how I left you, I would. I’m so sorry, Harvey.”

He looks down at her, thin lipped, feeling too bitter to be touched by her apology. 

“Mike is lovely. I don’t know him that well, but I really think he’s the one. I know that’s romantic and silly, but I believe in that stuff.”

“I know, I remember.”

She turns to look at Darby, who nods, and then around again. “Can I… can I hug you?”

Harvey balls his hands into fists. He wants to say _No. Fuck you. You can’t touch me. Not now. Not again._ But the teary eyed look softens him, just a little. He knew her so well, and even though she broke his heart, he can’t help but feel moved by her humility. He nods and lets her step into his space. She smells the same. Of floral and clean crisp citrus. She wraps her arms around him and lays her head against his chest. He puts his hand high on her back and lets the other fall at his side. She feels soft and warm but the nearness is uncomfortable. He has to grit his teeth and resist the urge to push her away. They need this, even if it hurts. They need the closure. Across the room Darby looks equally uncomfortable but diligently allows the embrace. Harvey respectfully nods at him and then gently steps back. 

“I want you to be happy Scottie,” he concludes, offering up the only truth he can give her. “Darby is a good man.”

She nods, smiles, and returns to her Dom.

Once Darby has gone, only Donna and Rachel remain.

“Will he be okay?” Rachel asks.

Harvey sighs. “He was in there trying to pack me a bag.” 

Her eyes widen as Donna walks over to take her hand. “Are you gonna go?” she asks.

He shakes his head. “No. No more manipulation.”

They both nod in agreement. 

“He’ll have another opportunity, he just has to earn it.” Harvey feels confident that by July Mike will be ready. He feels this despite the nagging worries and doubts about what the year might bring. How Mike might change. What he might discover. Who he might meet. 

He gulps.

“Anything you need,” Donna says. “I’m here. We both are.”

Harvey hugs them and promises to call after Mike leaves, then says goodbye.

All in all, it only take a half hour to clear the apartment. Without other people the music on the stereo seems loud and the mess seems unmanageable. Good thing he has cleaners coming in the morning. It’s only quarter past ten and Harvey already feels exhausted.

He’s stripping out of his suit and letting it fall in an uncharacteristically messy pile in the hallway floor. He wiggles off his tie and drops it wearily at the doorway, and then stands looking down at his Mike. Undressed, he slides in next to his Sub. His lover. His everything.

“They’re gone?” Mike asks sleepily.

Harvey nods as he pulls him in. “Just you and me now.”

Mike exhales and rubs his nose against Harvey’s chest. “Tell me again when you’re coming to see me.”

“Two months,” he says while placing two kisses on the crown of Mike’s head. “Three weeks,” he says with three more kisses, one on each temple and another in the space between his eyes. “And,” he glances at the clock, “about one day.” He tips up Mike’s chin and kisses him long and sweet on the lips.

Mike blinks, his eyelashes looking feathery soft and delicate against his cheeks. “You know what I was thinking?” 

“Tell me.”

“Do you remember that night at Roissy when we played the question game?”

Harvey thinks back and, recalling the memory, feels a cold clammy flush. It hadn’t ended well. “Yes. I remember.”

“You asked me a question.”

“I asked you a lot of questions,” he says, avoiding.

“I know, but there was one in particular.” Mike looks up at him and their faces are so close that he can feel breath against his lips. “Will you ask me again?”

Harvey closes his eyes and thinks back. Trying to remember exactly what he’d said. “Okay,” he begins softly. “Do you trust me?” Mike watches Harvey’s lips while he speaks. “Do you trust me to take care of you? And that I'll be true to the promises I made when I collared you?”

Mike examines Harvey face with care. He looks in his eyes and strokes a hand through his hair. Then, with a nod, he answers. “Yes. After today I do.”

Harvey smiles. He wants to laugh he’s so happy, but he reigns it in. He’d almost forgotten that night. He’d pushed it out of his memory, too devastated by the idea that Mike couldn’t trust him completely. That there was still something holding him back, keeping them apart even in that intangible way. “Why today?”

“You have every right to leave me, anyone else would, but you haven’t. You promised you’d always be mine and I believe you. I guess that’s what trust feels like.”

“That wasn’t clear a year ago? When I agreed to collar you again? When I agreed to wait for you?”

He blinks, his eyes downcast and submissive. “I believed you _wanted_ to wait for me. I just thought… I’ve thought all this time that once I was gone you’d realize how much better your life could be without me dragging you down, you know? I hoped you’d wait, but I thought… I thought maybe it would give you permission to let me go if you needed to. And I wanted to be prepared to live my life without you. Just in case.”

“Oh, Mike.” He pulls him in close, one hand on the back of his head. “I couldn’t let you go any more than I could stop breathing. I’m here as long as you’ll have me.”

“I trust that now,” he says. “I trust it because… because you want me to be better. I feel like you’ll be waiting for something more than just,” he sweeps one hand over his body, “this.”

Harvey pulls away. “Mike, please. There’s always room to grow, that’s healthy, but I love you and I think you’re-”

Mike shakes his head. “Don’t say I’m perfect. Please don’t say I’m perfect, because I’m not. I’m an insensitive fuck up. I’m an ex-druggie and a liar. I wouldn’t eat a single vegetable if you weren’t here to force me, I don’t exercise and I spent the last year obsessing over myself and never once thinking about you. I’m _not_ perfect and I wish you wouldn’t say that I am.” He’s huffing. “Today you told me to learn to be better for you and that’s what I’m going to do. If you’re going to wait for me, than I’m going to make myself into something you’ll be proud of.”

Harvey is stunned. Stunned to learn that Mike would be so critical of himself, yet ashamed that he’d missed the insecurity so completely. He’s embarrassed that Darby saw it in one glance when he hadn’t seen it in over a year of living with Mike. He’d been bathing his Sub with praise ever since the incident at Roissy. His last attempt to push Mike’s boundaries had been such a disaster that he’d tried coddling his Sub. For the past year he’d been playing inside Mike’s comfort zones, avoiding pointing out his flaws as much as possible, and reminding him, day after day, how much Harvey loved him. But that’s not what Mike needs. He needs to be _better_. Harvey isn’t sure how to tell him that this is something he has to believe inside before Harvey, or any Dom can bring it out in his submission. That isn’t something you can teach. But once he believes he can be the best version of himself, every success, small or large, will balance him. Fulfill him. His submission will be less about sensation, and more about what it should be - purpose. 

When Mike learns this he’ll finally grow into the proud and confident Sub Harvey knows he can be. Until then, he’ll always feel like a failure. Harvey sees that now. That’s why Mike needs this time alone. And that’s why, even if it kills Harvey to admit it, he needs other Doms in his life. With only Harvey in his past, Mike will always question himself - _Am I a good boy because Harvey loves me, or because I am?_ Someone else has to answer that for him. 

And when he’s learned, Harvey will be waiting to remind him what it is to be loved because he’s good, and just because he is. 

It’ll be a hard wait, but Harvey can do it. He can do it because he also has some growing to do and some things to prove to both himself and Mike.

Mike reaches up and kisses him tentatively, as if unsure of his welcome. “I love you,” he says. 

“You love me even though I won’t pack that bag with you tonight?”

He looks sad, but he nods. “Even though.”

“Promise me, that if it becomes too much, or if something happens and you feel at risk of using again, that you’ll call me. I won’t be angry.”

“You won’t?”

“No. I’ll be so proud of you for asking for help.”

“And,” Mike hesitates, “what if I need you to come? What if I need you? Even just for a day.”

“If you need me, I’ll be there.”

He nods. “If I _need_ you. That’s different than if I _want_ you.”

“Yes it is.”

“I think I’m just now starting to understand the difference. It’s a little late, huh?”

“It’s never too late to learn. I was reminded of that today.”

Mike looks at him questioningly, but doesn’t enquire. 

“And when you’re ready,” he says, nuzzling Mike’s neck, “I’ll show you what it’s like to want what you need.” His voice is whisper soft and is making Mike shiver. “As well as need what you want”

Mike runs his palms up and down Harvey’s back, his fingers stroking the skin at his sides, where he carries the tiniest bit of extra fat, and then down to rest on his ass. “I want you,” he says. “And I’ll always need you.” He’s breathing heavily and his cock is swelling. He glances up at Harvey as he opens his thighs, encouraging him to sink down between them. “Will you make love to me?” he asks.

Harvey’s own cock is hard and twitching against Mike’s groin, his arousal answer enough.

Mike grins and thrusts up against him. He clutches at Harvey’s back and sighs. “Please. I want to suck you first.”

“Yes,” he groans. He flips onto his back and rests a hand on Mike’s head as his boy drops down eagerly and wraps his lips around him. The sensation is electric and powerful. Mike moves down to the base of his cock and then lower and Harvey lets his legs fall open wide to give him room as he worships his balls with the flat of his tongue and mouth. He takes them both between his lips with a sound of such debauched pleasure Harvey has to pull him up by his hair or risk coming before he’s ready. Mike licks up his cock again and then swallows him down, humming and lapping at him with a skill Harvey feels proud of. He taught him this. Mike is _his_. No matter who else touches him, he belongs here. Right here.

When it becomes too much he urges Mike away and pulls him up for a kiss. Deep and filthy and full of tongue. A fucking kiss. The kind the makes Harvey want to thrust into something.

With Mike now floating in his headspace, Harvey flips him onto his stomach and prepares him with deep probing fingers that have Mike groaning and bucking against the sheets. When neither of them can handle it a second more, Harvey thrusts in, grabs Mike’s hips, and pounds against him. 

“Fuck! Yes!”

Harvey strokes possessively over his Sub’s hot flushed body. Over his chest and belly and thighs. He feels the hot spot under his arms and at his collarbone. “God, you’re so beautiful.”

Mike turns his head, panting. “What… what about me is beautiful?”

The shy hesitant inquiry makes Mike’s cheeks flush, but Harvey can see the desperation for approval. When was the last time he told his Sub how beautiful he is? When was the last time he did more than show him love for his body, when did he _say_ it? He leans down, still inside him, and whispers in his ear.

“You’re skin. It’s so smooth and soft, and when I fuck you it gets flushed and hot. It makes me want to stay inside you forever.”

Mike moans.

“And your back. It’s long and thin and curves so beautifully when you move.” He runs his hands down the back in question until they come to rest at his ass. He groans at the sight. “Your ass, Mike. You have no idea how good you look stretched around me. And your legs,” he says, his hands still roaming, “are strong. Everything about you is beautiful, but it’s this that’s best.” He leans down again and kisses Mike’s temple. 

Mike’s eyes close and he tucks his face into the sheets.

“Mike, don’t hide your face. Let me see that you hear me.”

He turns his chin back obediently and blinks, looking over his shoulder as best he can.

“I love everything about you. Every part of you.”

“Even the bad stuff?”

Harvey strokes his head. “You’re not bad. You make mistakes. We both do, we’re neither of us perfect.” He kisses his shoulder. “See? I said it. I love your mistakes, especially when you confront them like you did tonight, because it shows that you’re growing.”

Mike looks back at him. “I… I think you’re growing too.”

Harvey nods. “You’re right, I am. We’re both trying to be better for each other.” He lifts up Mike’s chin and claims his lips in a kiss.

“Please,” Mike whimpers. “Please, sir.”

The begging makes his cock twitch and the honorific has him keening with pleasure. With one hand he wraps up Mike’s neglected erection and strokes in time with his thrusts. Mike lays one cheek against the sheets, mouth open in one long moan, while Harvey holds him up at the hips. They move together like this - messy but in-synch. Beautifully imperfect.

“Come for me. Come now, I want to feel you.”

Mike’s eyes clench shut and then he’s coming with a throaty scream, the ejaculation coating Harvey’s hand and the sheet beneath them. With a few more hard thrusts Harvey follows behind.

“Oh my god.” Mike has collapsed onto his stomach, sweaty and haphazard with limps going in every direction. 

Feeling proud, powerful and accomplished, Harvey puts a hand on his Sub and smiles. He’s happy despite everything. Mike might be leaving in the morning, but he has his Sub back. It’s not what he imagined when he prayed for a breakthrough, but it’s enough. For now it’s enough. 

Harvey lays down beside Mike and smiles when his boy crawls up and drapes half his body over him.

“Wow,” Mike says.

Harvey smiles. “Even vanilla sex can be pretty great, huh?”

Mike smiles. “That’s because it wasn’t sex, it was making love.”

“Mmmmm, yes.”

They lay there, nose to nose, getting sleepier with every breath. They kiss and cling to each other, feeling smiles against their lips.

Harvey expected to dread sleep. He saw himself awake, soaking in every last moment with Mike, fearing his morning departure. But he doesn’t. Mike is his and tomorrow is another adventure in their journey together, even if apart. It’s the first step towards Mike’s future, the one he was designed for. Maybe they’d be better off if Harvey had held his hand and gone with him. Maybe they’d be happier if Mike had chosen NYU. If Harvey hadn’t given in and let him go. If Mike had been less broken. If Harvey had made fewer mistakes. If they’d fallen in love with different people.

Looking back, there are so many maybes. But none of it matters. This is their reality. This is _their_ future. And Harvey can’t wait to see what happens.

Mike sighs and stretches, his body warm and lithe against him. “You know,” he says, “that was pretty great. But I still like getting my ass whipped from time to time.” He snorts and Harvey laughs. 

Well, maybe they won’t be sleeping much after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Thank you! Don't forget to come back for the epilogue, and make sure to add me to your author alerts so you don't miss anything upcoming in the series!_


	23. Epilogue

Someone presses a red plastic cup into Mike’s hand as an anecdote concludes involving two professors and a janitorial closet. He laughs until he’s coughing, his eyes glistening with joyful exuberance. Friends wrap arms around him and squeeze. “Glad you came,” they say. “Cheers to finishing your first year, rookie.” 

Mike smiles, blushing, as he looks around at the bustling and noisy crowd. He feels good. Happy. Here, with these people, his friends and colleagues, he feels like he can be himself. 

“You know who's here, right?” He looks over and smiles at Jason, one of his closest friends and fellow submissive classmate. He’s rail thin and tall with red hair that sticks out messily under a tattered beanie. 

“Who?”

Jason points across the room at a group of Doms sitting under the window, engrossed in conversation. 

_Gabriel._

As if on cue, Gabe looks up, catches Mike’s eye and grins. His smile is warm and genuine, almost shy. He rubs a hand along the back of his neck.

“I thought it might be like that,” Jason laughs. 

Mike spins around and takes a swig of beer. “It’s not. I’m in a relationship.”

Jason hums. “ _Right._ But, I mean, are any of us going to actually meet this Dom of yours?”

“You met him at Christmas,” Mike says.

“No. We caught a glimpse of him as you two ran for the closest room with a lock and a flat surface. That’s not meeting.”

Mike rolls his eyes. “Maybe in the summer.”

“You know there’s a rumor going around that he’s imaginary.” Mike punches him playfully in the stomach. “But really, we’d like to meet him. I know he must be special if you’d go to all this trouble.” Jason taps Mike’s training collar then squeezes his shoulder.

“He is. Special, that is.”

They turn back to the crowd. “And Gabe,” he says with an ironic grin. “That’s a coincidence, huh? Your friend from _Italy_ of all places suddenly moves to San Francisco. Do you think it has anything to do with the, well, _you know_. The _kiss_?”

Mike cringes and shakes his head. “Of course not. Don’t be stupid. Beside, that wasn’t a kiss, it was - ”

“A kiss.”

“An _accident_.”

Jason snorts. “Whatever, it’s still weird.”

Mike bites his lip as Gabe catches his eye for the third time. “Yeah. Weird.”

 

If Mike were honest with himself, which he’s trying to do more of, he would have to admit that Gabriel’s reemergence into his life is bad. Very _very_ bad.

Self-control is something he’s been working especially hard on. In fact, one of the Doms at _The Bay Club_ is leading him through exercises to reach a series of new goals before July. All in all, it’s going well. With a little direction Mike is finding it easier to follow Harvey’s orders and wishes, even when he’s not here, and that makes Mike proud. His diet is improving and his exercise regime is becoming more structured. No longer is he weak and gawky with a growing tummy from too much junk food. He’s fit and lithe. For the first time in his life he can run a hand down his stomach and find it firm and strong. The three-mile runs he used to take with Ethan no longer leave him gasping for air and curled over in pain. Now he can run four miles, sometimes five.

Biting his lip, Mike looks up over the rim of his red plastic cup and stares at Gabe. He looks good. Better than he remembers and it makes something dangerous flutter inside him. Fuck. What is he doing? Why did Gabe have to move to San Francisco now, of all times? With only one months to go, Mike is on his way to being exactly the Sub he wants to present to Harvey, and unfaithful isn’t part of the package. 

He’s worked hard, yes, but the tension and frustration building up over the months is not insignificant. 

And to make things worse? Harvey has gone and fucked off to England without explaining why, or how to reach him. “ _I need some time away to… reflect_ ,” he’d said during one of their weekly phone calls. “ _You’re doing so well there and I know you’ll be well taken care of. It’s only a few weeks, maybe a month_.” 

Yeah, well it’s been almost two months now and Mike still hasn’t heard from his Dom. Not once. Not one fucking phone call. Donna and Rachel assure him that Harvey is well, that he asks about Mike, but no matter how hard he tries to trust, sometimes he can’t help but wonder if Harvey hasn’t moved on. It happens, even to people in love. Things change. People change. New people come into your life and… 

Mike looks up and catches Gabriel’s eye. 

_Gabe._ They’d had a connection in Italy. There’d been a spark. Something intangible, deep and important. Important enough that, in his lowest moment, when he’d thought for sure he’d lose Harvey, he’d pulled out Gabriel’s number on the crumpled business card. The card he’d been holding onto for over a year. But Gabe had remembered him, and they’d talked. For four hours they’d talked about everything from Berkeley and Harvey to the latest episode of _Scandal_. It has only been a few hours on the phone but by the end Mike felt like he had a friend. A real friend. Someone he hadn’t connected so deeply with since he and Trevor had been lonely teenagers with no one but each other to turn to. 

With Gabe living on the other side of the world, Mike hadn’t felt the need to tell Harvey about the call. It wasn’t romantic, definitely not sexual, and Mike never planned to talk to him again, until… _New Years_. Mike shakes off the memory, shivering at the simultaneously welcome and unwelcome warmth curling inside him. 

They’d kissed. Accidentally. _Accidentally?_ Had it been an accident? Mike still isn’t sure, but the fact that it happened and he _still_ hasn’t told Harvey gnaws at him. And now, like some kind of bizarre twist of fate when Mike is feeling more vulnerable than ever, Gabe reemerges and Mike is filled with the most overwhelming guilt.

Mike turns and moves through the crowd, hoping to find someone safe to talk to, when, with mounting intensity, he catches the scent of something sweet and smooth that makes his jaw drop and his muscles melt. With instant recognition his eyes pop open and he looks around. There, next to the TV, two Subs lean against each other, smoking. They’re smiling and laughing and it reminds Mike sorrowfully of his best friend, of Trevor, and of a time when they were that close. When they meant everything to each other.

A girl nudges him and holds out a joint. “Wanna join?” 

Mike steps back, his head shaking. “No. No, thank you,” he stutters. She shrugs and slips it back into her jean pocket.

In the bathroom Mike’s hands shake as he fiddles with the stupid minimalist lock before finally giving up and collapsing in a heap against the wall. He runs his hands over his face and groans. He’d have been naive to imagine that this wouldn’t come up eventually. He’s in college for God’s sake. People around him are going to do drugs and there’s nothing he can do to stop them. 

Self control. That’s they key. He remembers his instruction to breathe in and out, meditating on his goals when temptation overcomes him. He envisions Harvey’s face, his smile, the way his hands feel on his bare back when he holds Mike at night. The memories are warm and sweet and with one last breath he feels composed enough to go back out and face the inevitable. He’ll just say his goodbyes and leave. Hopefully, without running into Gabe. 

At the sink Mike uses the hand soap to wash his face, which, it turns out, isn’t the best idea, as it’s clearly not meant for faces and proceeds to burn the living shit out of his eyes. Cursing, Mike rubs at his face while fumbling for a towel. He turns to search the opposite wall when his foot catches on something and he goes tumbling down, the side of his head cracking painfully on the sink. 

Huddled against the cabinet door, his throbbing head in his hands, eyes clenched against the stinging pain, he doesn’t hear the door open and someone come in.

“Mike? Mike, can you hear me?”

He nods. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m okay.” He pulls one hand away and, seeing blood, feels suddenly nauseated. “Okay, maybe not.”

Moments later a warm washcloth is pressed to his forehead as the stranger strokes his hair over one shoulder. “Here, lean down, it’ll help.” 

Mike bends over his lap and takes big gulping breaths to ward off the sick feeling rising in his throat. “Thanks,” he says. “Sorry. I didn’t get your name.”

“Uhm, it’s Gabriel.”

He looks up. “Oh.”

“Not happy to see me?”

“No! No, it’s not that,” he says, suddenly hyper aware that Gabe’s hands are all over him. “I’m just surprised. I, uh, I was surprised to learn you were here again, you know, for good.”

Gabe smiles while wiping gingerly at his head and frowning at the spots of blood. “I was offered a position heading up a psychology project for refugees in the city. San Francisco has just re-purposed a development in The Tenderloin. It’s not a great situation, so they need all the help they can get.”

Mike smiles. “That’s awesome.”

He blushes then examines the side of Mike’s head. “It’s not deep. If you can tell me today’s date, I’d say you can forgo a hospital visit.

“Uhm. June 11th?”

Gabe looks at his watch. “Close enough. You’ve won the right to wear an ugly bandage for the next few days.” Gabe rummages through the bathroom cabinet until he finds the first-aid kit.

“So you’re a nurse too?”

He chuckles. “I’ve just taken so many health and safety courses over the years that I’m practically an expert on minor emergencies.”

“Nice.”

Gabriel pulls out a bottle of antiseptic, cotton pads, a gauze bandage and a long roll of stretchy brown tape. With a sigh, Mike leans against the wall and lets himself drift while Gabe takes care of him.

 

_New Years Eve. Five Months Earlier._

Harvey’s hand is firm and possessive on Mike’s hip. They’re standing to the left of the stage looking up at the countdown. 5 MIN 17 SEC. 16 SEC. 15 SEC. The warm weight of his Dom’s body against his side and the tightness of his arm across Mike’s back feels electrified. They had two weeks together. Two glorious weeks that made everything wrong in their relationship seem unimportant. No discussing the elephants in the room - Mike’s July 4th decision, The Bay Club, or the training collar. Everything was like it had been at the best of times. They rarely went out, too absorbed in each other to leave the bedroom much less Mike’s little Berkeley bungalow. Mike served Harvey breakfast in bed, each of them reveling at the freedom to be comfortably nude in December, the California sun streaming in through the windows. 

Harvey seems unable to get enough of Mike and it makes his heart sing. _He wants me. I matter. He wants me. I matter._ The club is loud and the energy thumping. Mike can’t remember why he suggested going out in the first place. It’s Harvey’s last night, why hadn’t they just stayed in? Popped a bottle of champagne and celebrated in their own quiet sanctuary? Who cares that they’ve barely left the house, and who cares that none of Mike’s friends have met Harvey? This fucking club is too busy to find anyone Mike knows anyway.

With a sigh, Mike snuggles into Harvey’s embrace and feels the tightening of his Dom’s arm around his back. 

“Do you want to leave?” Harvey shouts.

Mike shakes his head. “After the countdown. We waited this long.”

2 MIN 49 SEC. 48 SEC. 47 SEC.

“I’m going to get something to toast with,” Harvey says, looking over at the bar. Most everyone is starting up at the countdown with anticipation, so it’s empty at the counter.

Mike nods reluctantly and lets Harvey go. Within seconds he’s disappeared into the crowd and the mob shifts forward to fill his space. Mike wraps his arms around himself and sighs. Six more months without Harvey. How is he going to do it? He has friends, sure. Good friends, and that will help. He has school and he has the club, both of which provide stability that he couldn’t survive without. But these past two weeks have reminded him what more there is and how desperately he needs it. Independence has been… disappointing, in the end.

1 MIN 2 SEC. 1 MIN 1 SEC. 59 SEC. 58 SEC.

Mike turns around, looking for Harvey, but he can’t see over the sea of people. Harvey could be anywhere. Mike could go looking for him, but that would probably only make it worse. They’ll never find each other. Looking from side to side, Mike spots a gap in the crowd with a clear route to the bar. He gets a flash of dusty golden hair and moves forward.

“Mike?!” Someone shouts.

He looks around. 

“Oh my god, Mike!” Arms wrap around him before Mike can even see the face attached. When he’s released he looks up and his eyes widen.

“Gabriel? What… what are you doing here?”

“Just visiting friends who work in the city. I can’t believe it! How are you?” Gabriel’s smile is just as infectious as Mike remembers. There’s something sunny and warm about the Dom, something that makes you want to be close to him. His friends smile from behind and nod in greeting.

“I’m fine. I’m just looking -” Mike turns around but the gap has closed up and people are starting to bounce with excitement. The music is getting louder and over Gabriel’s head the countdown is narrowing down to its mark. 

31 SEC. 30 SEC. 29 SEC.

“You look great,” Gabriel shouts with one hand on Mike’s shoulder.

“Uhm, thanks,” he says, blushing. Gabe, Mike has to admit looks pretty good as well. He’s young and vibrant. Strong, yet gentle in his subdued and cautious dominance. Nevertheless, Mike can feel the authority there and it’s as intoxicating as it had been the first time they met. 

Suddenly everyone turns and the chant begins. TEN. NINE. EIGHT. SEVEN. SIX. And it’s just Gabriel and Mike facing each other, unable to turn away. FIVE. FOUR. THREE. TWO. Gabe leans in. ONE.

The cheering and popping of confetti is so loud, Mike covers his ears and laughs. Someone bumps into him and he stumbles, but Gabe catches him by he arm. “You okay?”

“Yeah!”

A Sub, her hair in disarray and her breath stinking of beer, leans over with a sloppy grin. “Kiss already!” she shouts.

Mike shakes his head and prepares to explain that, no, Harvey just went for drinks and - when, with a joyful chuckle, Gabe spins him around and kisses him. It’s a chaste kiss. A kiss of friends, really. It’s quick and when they break away Gabriel is laughing. “It’s so good to see you! Where are you going after this?”

The sensation of another Dom’s lips on his is like an electric shock. Mike licks his lips and Gabe’s eyes dart down and then back up again.

“I need to find Harvey. He’s,” Mike looks around, “somewhere.”

Gabe’s smile drops and he takes one step back. “Wait, you’re not here alone? Oh my god, I’m so sorry.”

Mike shakes his head and smiles awkwardly. “No, it’s,” he runs a hand through his hair nervously, “I mean, it’s fine, I just need to figure out where…”

Gabe clutches Mike’s hand and leans in. “It was great to see you. Sorry again about the,” he gestures back and forth. “Say hello to Harvey for me.”

Mike nods and presses on through the seemingly un-penetrable crowd. When he finally finds his Dom, he’s standing at the bar with two glasses of bubbling champagne. They smile and Mike takes a glass.

“I couldn’t get through so I thought,” Harvey’s adams apple bobs, “I thought I’d wait until you find me.” He smiles tightly and raises his glass. “Cheers.” 

Mike takes a sip and presses back into Harvey’s embrace. When they’ve each finished they move silently to the exit and then out to the car. It’s deafeningly quiet in the parking lot. Quiet enough that the events of the night begin crystalizing. Becoming real.

Halfway home, Mike takes off his seatbelt despite Harvey’s protest and lies down with his head on his Dom’s thigh. “I love you,” he says. 

After a beat of silence, Harvey strokes his fingers hesitantly through Mike’s hair.

 

_Back to the present._

Several days after the house party. After learning that Gabe has returned _again_. After stupidly cracking his head on the bathroom sink. Mike is kneeling, naked, in room number five of The Bay Club.

The door opens and Tai enters. He’s a large man, intimidatingly so, and despite knowing exactly how gentle he is, Mike can’t help but shrink and fidget under his gaze.

The lights in this room are dim. Room number five. One of only three rooms Mike is assigned. 

Because of his unique requirements and limitations, Mike rarely sees the room with the bed, room two, and that’s only with a Dom who likes to nap after work with Mike in her arms. It had been uncomfortably intimate at first, but after a while Mike began looking forward to the excuse to close his eyes, cuddle, and imagine Harvey’s arms around him.

Then there’s room eight, which is decked out in elaborate leather restraints. On the ceiling, on the walls, everywhere. It’s overwhelming and more than he and Harvey have ever experimented with. One of the Doms, Simon, likes to string Mike up, elevate him, and then slowly, excruciatingly slowly, jack him off. He’d like to do more, Mike is sure of it, but his boundaries are clear and Simon is nothing if not careful. He always double and triple checks each rope and fastener until Mike wants to scream. And yet, the first time had still been the closest Mike has ever been to using his safe word at the club. The weightlessness and helplessness, the knowledge that he couldn’t get two feet on the ground, had been scary. And then, to top it off, he’d never had someone who isn’t Harvey make him come. The safeword had been right on the tip of his tongue, but he’d made it through and he’s glad. Like those simple scenes where he’s required to do nothing but be held, he thinks of Harvey. Now he just closes his eyes and submits to the memory of his Dom, and every muscle in his body relaxes until suddenly it’s Harvey’s hand on him, Harvey’s voice in his ear, Harvey’s commands to _come now_. And it feels glorious.

But this room, room five, is more disconcerting than the others because of its simplicity. This room has almost nothing in it. No couch, no bed, no wardrobe with condoms and lube. It’s just an empty room with dimmable lights, a soft rug and one wooden chair. This is where Mike comes to meet Tai. 

Tai is a Dom who likes to _talk_ , which makes this room his greatest challenge. 

When he enters, Tai walks around him slowly, his strong gait and thick muscled legs all Mike can see through his lowered lashes.

“What’s your safeword?” Tai asks, voice low and rumbly.

“Yellow to slow down. Red to stop,” Mike answers obediently. These are the standard safewords for the club. It’s easier if all the Subs and Doms are on the same page when it comes to safety. Red means the same thing for all of them, but Tai still makes Mike repeat it every time.

“Why are we here, Mike?”

He bites his lip. “I… I need to go down.”

“That’s not why. Tell me the truth, boy.”

Mike shakes his head a little, emotion bubbling up behind his eyes. “I, uh, I needed to see you?”

“Is that a question or an answer? Make up your mind before you speak.”

“I’m sorry. It’s an answer. I needed to see you, sir.”

“Why me?”

“Tai,” he pleads, knowing the other man knows why he’s here.

“Excuse me?”

“Sir,” he corrects. “Please, sir, don’t make me ask.”

With an exasperated sigh, one that says, _what did I do to deserve such disrespect?_ , Tai sits down on the chair and waits. Mike scurries over and kneels at his feet, head down, hands resting in his lap.

Tai places one hand on his shoulder, something he always does as if to say - _I’m here. You’re safe with me._

“What are you being punished for?”

Mike licks his lips. “I’ve been unfaithful.”

“You’ve cheated on your Dom?” he asks, surprised.

“No!” Mike says, shaking his head. “No, not really. I just,” he hesitates. “Lately I’ve been thinking about someone else. A lot.”

“You’ve been tempted.”

“Yes, sir.”

“But have you acted on this temptation?”

“No, sir.”

Tai sits back without loosening his grip on Mike’s shoulder. “Tell me, do you think punishment will truly resolve this problem?”

Mike breathes in an out, thinking. Tai doesn’t allow him to answer questions without thinking them through first, even if it takes a long time. This is another lesson he plans to bring back to Harvey. Being thoughtful. Thinking through his words before anything leaves his mouth.

“No,” Mike finally decides, “only I can do that.”

“That’s right,” Tai says proudly. “So then, what _does_ punishment do?”

Mike hesitates, confused. “It’s… consequence for misbehavior?”

“Yes, in a way. Punishment is about learning from mistakes while discipline is about learning not to make them. You’ve not yet made a mistake, Mike, so what you’re really asking for is discipline.”

Mike frowns. He’d never really thought of the distinction in such simple terms before. With Harvey the two words were kind of jumbled up together. 

“Discipline, sir?” Mike asks. “What do you mean?”

“Discipline is different for every Dom, and it’s also immensely personal and regimented. In short, it’s not something I can offer you.” He takes his hand from Mike’s shoulder, making him feels cold and ridiculous kneeling here, naked and exposed. “What you need to do is contact your Dom. Be honest. Tell him what you need.”

Mike shakes his head. “But, no! No, I don’t want to call Harvey! And tell him what? That I fantasize about another Dom?”

“Yes.”

Mike shakes him head, brow furrowed. “Seriously? Are you crazy?”

Tai’s expression darkens. “Careful, Mike. Disrespect is not tolerated in this room.”

Mike hangs his head and breathes unevenly. “Please, sir,” he says through clenched teeth. “I’ve told you practically _everything_ about me so you know that I want to be perfect by this time next month. I refuse to go to Harvey with this,” his fingers curl into his palms, “this _disgusting_ weakness.”

Tai sighs and stands. “Perfection is unattainable, we’ve discussed that.”

“Yeah, I know. I didn’t mean _perfect_ , I meant better. Better than before.”

“Honesty _will_ make you better in the eyes of your Dom, Mike. I can tell you that with certainty.” Tai sighs and crouches down beside him. “Let me tell you something,” he says. Mike is breathing heavily, his eyes darting back and forth across the floor. 

“I think you already know this, but you’re a perfectionist and too smart for your own good, so I’ll say it to you straight.” Tai wraps his large hand around Mike’s shoulder and squeezes. His rich voice softens intimately. “That weakness you’re so embarrassed by is part of who you are. It’s part of who we all are, both Dom and Sub. So if you really want to give yourself over to him, let him see all of you - the improvements _and_ the imperfections.”

Mike exhales, his hands shaking against his thighs. “You’re right,” he sighs. “Maybe I was just trying to find a way out of doing the right thing.”

Tai stands again. “Sounds like it to me too. Now go, call your Dom.”

Mike nods and listens to the other man put on his jacket and leave, all the while thinking, _right_ , but _how am I supposed to call him if I don’t know where he is?_

 

At first, Mike doesn’t do much about Tai’s suggestion. After all, Harvey still hasn’t called and Mike _still_ doesn’t have a clue how to get ahold of him. And it’s not like Gabe is around much. He sees him again when Mike is invited to study with friends at Golden Gate Park, and then again at the coffee shop he frequents near the Berkeley BART station.

“What are you doing in Berkeley?” Mike had asked, grinning around his caramel latte. “I thought your work is in the Tenderloin?” If he came off suspicious, Gabe didn’t seem to notice.

“It is,” he confirmed with that addictively playful and innocent smile. “The head psychologist’s offices are at the university, so I’m here a couple times a week.”

Sometimes, in the dark of night when Mike’s apartment feels cold and empty and his loneliness creeps up on him, he sometimes reaches down and wraps a hand around himself. At first it’s Harvey face in his mind’s eye. It’s Harvey’s broad shoulders over him, and his breath in Mike’s ear. But, Harvey’s features are dim and obscure, as if the long months apart have made Mike’s memory dull. And now, lately, when Harvey looks up at Mike, just for a second, it’s Gabriel’s face there instead.

So, when, for the first time, Mike lets Gabriel’s body take Harvey’s place without pushing it away, without stopping himself from coming with a groan to the image of his friend’s lips on him, his long fingers on his cock, his black hair brushing against his belly, that Mike reaches for the phone with shaking fingers and calls Donna.

“I need Harvey’s number, Donna. I need it now.”

 

“Mike, I’ve told you, I don’t know how to reach him,” Rachel says the next morning over Skype. She’s wearing a soft cotton bra with a sweatshirt thrown over and holding a bowl of something liberally covered in cheese. “Sorry. Have you asked Donna?”

“Of course, I’ve asked Donna,” Mike says. “I called Donna last night, woke her up, and practically demanded the number.”

Rachel snorts. “And how did that go?”

Mike drops his head dramatically to his arms. “She is so scary.”

“But in a good way.”

“Yeah, yeah. In a good way.”

Rachel puts down her bowl and wipes her forearm across her now oily lips. “I honestly don’t have it, Mike. He’s being very secretive, but he does call Donna sometimes and he’s clearly fine. I bet he’s coming back soon, I’m sure he’ll call you the second he arrives.” She gulps and smiles. “I know it’s shitty, but I think it’s important, whatever he’s doing. I think -” she looks behind her, to each side, and then leans closer to the computer. “I think it’s to do with you, Mike.”

“Me? He’s on a business trip.”

She shrugs. “I overhear things, and it doesn’t sound like a business trip to me. Besides, I work for him. I practically manage his office, so I know what’s going on in his business. There’s nothing that should be keeping him in England for two months.”

Mike rubs a hand over his face and stares off at the open window and the passing cars beyond. “I just want to talk to him, Rachel. I need to talk to my Dom.”

“Well, what did Donna say?”

“That she’ll tell him I want to talk to him.”

“Then she will.”

“But I don’t want Donna to tell him, _I want to fucking tell him_. He’s mine. He said he’d be there if I ever need -” Mike covers his mouth and chokes. “God, I’m sorry.”

“No, don’t be sorry.” She frowns. “Mike, you know I’d give you his number if I had it, right?”

“Right.”

“Stick in there, okay?”

“Okay.”

 

Mike is feeling so down on himself the following Sunday after sitting at home with nothing to do but stare at the phone, wondering when Harvey will call, that he accepts Ethan’s invitation to the Berkeley Farmer’s Market. 

It’s a warm day so Mike decides to sport his new shorts, a t-shirt and pair of flip-flops. The fact that he even has such items in his wardrobe still surprises him. The market is busy, but the atmosphere has the easy relaxed energy of people who have nowhere to be and nothing to do. Mike has always enjoyed the market. No matter how hard he tires, he’s still not a great chef, but coming here and looking at the piles of colorful fruit, slices of fresh meat, and jars of sweet and sticky sauces, inspires him. Mike likes to imagine waking on a sunny morning just like this, slipping out of bed before Harvey wakes beside him, and coming here to buy ingredients for breakfast. Blueberry pancakes, maybe, or a Denver omelet. 

At the FroYo stand, Gabriel smiles and points. “Mike, we have to get one.” 

“But the line is so long,” Mike protests.

“You keep shopping then, while I wait,” he says. “I can’t help myself, I need it.” With a wink he slips in line and immediately starts up a conversation with the couple ahead of him. Gabriel is so easygoing and personable, Mike thinks. He could spend his time with literally _anyone_ , so why does he keep choosing _Mike?_

With a sigh, he shoves his hands in his pockets and presses on toward the flower stall. It’s big, colorful and smells amazing. It’s definitely Mike’s favorite part of the market, even though he’s never admitted it to anyone and has never actually bought anything. He can’t help but feel sad at the idea of buying flowers for himself. It was rare, but on occasion Harvey would…

Just then, Mike sees someone reach in to pay the flower attendant. He’s golden skinned and fair-haired and has a smile that makes something familiar flutter in Mike’s gut. He’s holding a small bouquet of tulips in the crook of his arm. When he turns away, the broad expanse of shoulder, the confident stride, the way he tucks one hand into his jean pocket - it’s all familiar, and yet not. The hair Mike is imagining is always combed back and smooth, not wild, wind blown and soft. The shoes are all made of shiny expensive leather, not canvas. It couldn’t be him, and yet, Mike can’t stop himself from pushing forward until he’s standing just behind him. God, he even smells…

Before Mike knows what he’s doing, he has one hand on the man’s back.

He turns, his expression revealing not a hint of surprise. Mike’s heart flips flops. 

“Mike. Look at you,” Harvey says with a contented smile. He slides one hand down Mike’s arm until he has his hand in a loose grip. 

“Harvey,” Mike says, his eyes darting back and forth across his Dom’s changed appearance. His skin looks vibrant and healthy and the bags under his eyes are gone. He looks young. But more than that, there’s a tranquility that Mike isn’t used to seeing. “What,” he stutters, “what are you doing? I mean,” he reaches forward slightly when Harvey releases his hand. “I’ve been trying to call you.”

“I know you have, baby. Thank you for being so patient.” 

_What?_ Mike thinks. _What?! That isn’t an explanation!_ Nevertheless, Harvey’s words are sweet and addicting and Mike wants more. Whatever more Harvey will give.

With a glance down at his bundle, Harvey hands over the flowers. “I thought I might see you today,” he says. “I know how you love these.”

Mike looks down, open-mouthed. “Tulips. Yeah. Because they grow even after they’re cut.”

“That’s right,” Harvey says, his gaze examining Mike intimately.

Just then Gabriel reappears holding two cups of pink FroYo covered in blueberries. He too looks stunned, but he controls his expression quickly as he hands one cup to Mike.

Harvey smiles broadly and reaches one hand out for a shake. “Great to see you again,” he says. “Gabriel isn’t is? I never got the chance to tell you how grateful I am for you taking care of Mike.”

Now Mike is even more confused, and it’s making his head hurt. _What the fuck is going on?_

Gabe shakes Harvey’s hand and says something equally vague and polite in response.

“I guess I should leave you here, then,” Gabe says to Mike. “Wow, what a surprise, huh? You must be thrilled.” 

Mike nods.

“Cool. Well, I’ll see you later then. Nice to see you Harvey.” 

They watch him go before turning back to each other. Mike looks up at his Dom, dumbfounded. Harvey chuckles and strokes one finger over the frown lines in his forehead. “Don’t be like that. Aren’t you happy to see me?”

Tears start swelling up, his throat chokes, but Mike suppresses it all and steps forward. “Harvey. I can’t believe it. Where have you been?”

“Busy. But thinking of you. Thinking of you everyday in fact.”

“Are you,” he looks around, a lump in his throat, “staying?”

“Yes,” Harvey says. “I’ve rented a house by the bay. You’ll have to come see it one of these days.”

“One of these days?”

“Yes.”

“Uhm. Okay.”

Harvey smiles and lays a hand on Mike’s shoulder, one finger idly flicking up under his collar. “You really do look beautiful.” He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a gum wrapper on which he quickly writes a number. 

“Now you know how to reach me.” The paper is pressed into Mike’s hand. With one last tug, he leans in and kisses Mike on the cheek. “Be good,” he whispers. His voice is low, deep, and full of command. Then, without a backward glance, he turns and strolls forward through the market, stopping occasionally to finger a bushel of grapes or comment inaudibly about some piece of art. Mike watches him go, stunned and frozen. It’s only when he’s completely out of sight that the surreal reality crashes down on him.

 _Harvey’s back, and everything has changed._

**THE END**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Unfortunately I cannot give you date for the next fic - I need the freedom to get the ball rolling before I begin posting. However, I will say that there is quite a bit written already and I'm itching to continue. It's going to be different and a lot of fun. Hope you're as excited as I am!_
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> _I love you all._
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> _Sincerely,_
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> _Poppy_


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